That Summer
by Reija Linn
Summary: The Dark Lord has risen, and sorrow at a deep loss bonds Harry and Bill together. Slash. Completed.
1. Chapter 01: Harry

Title: That Summer  
Author: Reija Linn (T'Reija)  
Email/Feedback: theganan@gmx.de or thiari@theganan.de  
Archive: The Potter Slash Archive, ff-net. Others please ask beforehand and leave the full header intact.  
Originally posted: hpslash list  
Codes: Harry/Bill, slash  
Rating: [R]  
  
Summary: The Dark Lord has risen, and sorrow at a deep loss bonds Harry and Bill together.  
  
Spoilers: Haven't read the books? Do so. Right away. Do not eat, sleep or pause until you're finished. Then come back.  
  
Warnings: male/male sexuality and/or relationship(s) featured within. Don't like, don't read, don't flame. Simple really, though seemingly not simple enough for some dim witted clots out there. Also, this is not a nice story. Character Death, and insanity featured within. If you prefer the fluffy kind, please read on of my other stories instead - most of them are.  
  
Legal disclaimer: I never have, nor ever will, owned the rights to the setting of the Harry Potter books or the characters featured within. The use of said settings and characters by me is for non-commercial purposes only and does not mean to infringe upon the given legal rights that belong to Mrs. J.K.Rowling and those she has associated them with.  
  
Notes: I've been wanting to put this story up on ff.net for over a year, now, and I always told myself I'd spellproof it thoroughly beforehand as well as remove some slight discrepancies. However, I haven't managed to do so for over a year, and since this has by far been my most popular (and longest) story, I'm putting it up with only minor changes from the way it was originally posted on the hpslash mailing list. Please forgive any left over typing errors and such. I hope to find the time some day to go through it again and upload a more professionally made copy.  
  
  
THAT SUMMER  
By Reija Linn (November 2001)  
  
Harry  
  
Winter had passed. But though the last of winter's cold was replaced with the soft, warm rain of April, and finally the warm spring sun of May and July, the world had become a dark and uncomfortable place to live in. We were no longer allowed to visit Hogsmeade on the weekends, or even leave not only the school grounds, but the very school building alone. Voldemort had, once again, risen to power, and all around us, the wizarding world was falling apart.  
  
Draco Malfoy had left the school after Christmas, and had not returned. I had never liked him much, but I could never forget the look of sorrow on his face, and for the first time I wondered, if his talk all through the years had not been just that - talk. We all knew he was leaving for good, and we all knew where he was going, but no one, not even Dumbledore, could do anything about it. Deep in my heart, behind all the hatred we had shared over the years, I wished him well, and wished that he may escape the dark, may escape the grasp his father held over him.  
  
Laughter had become a rarity, but then, what was there to be happy about? I had always believed myself to be brave, I had always believed that if the time came when Voldemort would rise, that I could *do* something, that we could fight back. But as once before, the first time he had held power, less and less people found the strength to fight. Most had just become dull to the pain.  
  
We were in our seventh year, and under other circumstances, we would have had the world open to us. As it was, life had lost much of it's meaning. Our community seemed to break apart. All the people I knew seemed to drift away from me, and there was nothing, nothing I could do about it, I or anyone. Even Dumbledore's hands were tied, and the ministry still refused to publicly acknowledge the threat until it was too late.  
  
Cho Chang had left for Asia the previous year. Fred and George were now living with Charlie in Rumania. Percy and Ron's dad were at the ministry almost non-stop, not even coming home to sleep on some days, trying to persuade the ministry to *do* something, to admit to everyone the true situation. Hermione had graduated one year early, and was now working as an auror with Sirius and Remus. Neville Longbottom had been taken from school by his grandmother, they had sought asylum in the United States, where a distant relative of his lived. Seamus Finnigan, too, had left school early, and with him Dean, they were living in Ireland now with Seamus mother, after Dean's parents had, as many muggles, fallen to the plague that Voldemort had spread on the muggle world. Seamus had sent a couple of letters by owl, telling me that everything was alright with them, safety-wise, but that Dean had retreated into a shell further and further after the loss of his parent's. The healers couldn't tell if he would ever really come back. Ginny was going to school in Beauxbaton, since she had taken on French in school and had received full grades, she didn't experience too many problems.  
  
So many people had left school that all four houses were put together into one class, and after all these years of house competition, it no longer seemed to matter much - except for the Slytherins. To the surprise of many, myself included, we found out that most Slytherins were okay to come along with, but many of them came from Death Eater's and Voldemort-supporter's families, and had been brought up with the Dark Mark over their heads like an evil omen. Many of them had been taken from school, too, as Draco had, and those remaining were just as scared as the rest of us.  
  
From our old lot, only Ron and I remained, and we were to stay with Bill in Egypt as soon as school was finished. Not to flee, as so many did, these days, but to receive further Defense Against the Dark Arts lessons, from one of the pharaoh's own men. Unknown to the muggle world, there still was - and is - a pharaoh in Egypt, though only for the wizarding world there, and he was an old friend of Dumbledore's. The headmaster had arranged for our training there, knowing I was one of the few people who had a real chance against Voldemort, being blood-bound to him. However, we could go into action only as soon as the ministry officially declared a state of war, and we were to be prepared as best we could. Mrs. Weasley had been opposed to Ron participating in this, but she knew it was a chance way of bringing him to refugee, if only for a while, and finally agreed.  
  
It never was to come.  
  
On our trip to Egypt, we were caught by a bunch of Death Eaters. Bill and Mr. Weasley did their best to defend us, and Bill and I did manage to escape - but only after Ron and his father had been killed by the Avada Kedavra Curse. Molly Weasley was admitted to the mental asylum two days later, after trying to cut her wrists with an old kitchen knife.  
  
When we finally arrived in Egypt, I could not find it in my heart to feel anymore. And prayed to whatever Gods there might be that they would kill me, too.  
  
I was not so lucky. 


	2. Chapter 02: Bill

THAT SUMMER, Chapter 2  
By Reija Linn  
  
Bill  
  
I took some time off from work after the incident in which my father and my little brother had been killed. My boss was understanding, they're all so bloody understanding. They wish you well, and offer their sympathies, and ask if they can do anything to help. And you stand there and nod, and thank them for their words, and all you want to do is scream, scream at them 'no, you bloody well can't *do* anything, they are dead, *dead*, and no one can bring them back, so what is there to *do*?'  
  
But you don't, because somewhere in your mind, though overshadowed by loss and grief, you know they only mean well, that they can't fucking understand, but that they also don't know what else to do.  
  
There wasn't even a funeral. No bodies left to bury, and returning to England was too dangerous at the moment. Right after the attack, the state of war had finally been called out by the British Ministry of Magic.  
  
When the news about Mum reached me, I was past tears, and almost past feeling. All I wanted was to be alone, with no one to comfort me, and with no one in need of my comfort. We had gone through all of this before, hadn't we? The last time when Voldemort had held power, when my sister had died. The twins, Ron and Ginny weren't born yet, and Percy had been too young to remember, but the rest of us do... Mum had had one more kid between Charlie and Percy, our sister Tina, who had been killed in one of the Death Eaters attacks on Muggle-sympathizer's houses. The pictures of fire and smoke and the sound of my mother's screaming as Dad held her back from the smoking doorway have never left me. The four-year-old girl had been sleeping upstairs. Percy, still a baby, was wrapped in my own arms, and Charlie, who was eight years old, was sitting next to me, only nine myself, unable to speak, unable to comprehend anything except that it was *our* house burning, that is was *our* mother screaming and crying, it was *our* sister who was supposed to be here and wasn't...  
  
The Burrow had been rebuilt with our last savings. Our family had, though never rich, been good-enough off before that, but afterwards, money had become a constant problem. And Mum had almost went insane back then, after loosing one of her children.  
  
We had thought it was finally over. We had held to the belief that Voldemort was gone, and that our family had suffered enough under his dark reign.  
  
And then he returned, and tore the rest of us apart. Dad and Ron... dead... Mum in St. Mungos... and the rest of us... well.  
  
I was the oldest, and it should have been my duty to get the rest of the family back together, to take care of Mum, but I was struck with grief and unable to do much more than pity myself.  
  
Upon arriving in Egypt, I showed Harry, who had been silent for all of our journey since the incident, and who's eyes were bright red, though I had never seen him cry during the day, to my small apartment. It contained a single bedroom, though large, a joined kitchen and dining room and a small bathroom. I put up his bed in one corner automatically, not speaking, trying not to think, welcoming every dumb, mindless work I could find as not to think about...  
  
And somewhere in my mind I knew that Harry was suffering as I was, Ron had been his best friend, and after years of spending the summer with my parents, they had both grown very dear to him, as he to them, but my state of mind allowed for nothing but my own sorrow and self-pity.  
  
So it was Charlie, always the practical one, always the one to act, always the fighter of the family, who was standing at my door one day, a week after it had all happened, as unable to utter a single word as I was. So we merely stood there, embracing, clinging to each other, and finally releasing the tears we hadn't been able to shed before.  
  
Harry, who had been really helpful that past week, though I barely noticed at the time, had made some tea by the time I finally released my brother and invited him in, and for the first time in seven days, I talked, I spoke to Charlie of my feelings of grief and helplessness and anger and hatred. Harry had wanted to leave the kitchen quietly, but I stopped him with a touch on his shoulder and poured him a cup of tea also, inviting him to stay. After all, he was part of the family, if not before, then certainly now, after this tragedy had bound us together in pain.  
  
And he was so young, even though almost eighteen. And so old at the same time. I guess life can do that to you, if it doesn't go all right and good, and his certainly hadn't.  
  
So the three of us sat in my small kitchen, drinking tea and talking, and crying, and mourning, and talking some more. After a couple of hours, Charlie had to leave to see to the twins, but not before embracing Harry and me and telling us to come to his place any time.  
  
When my brother had left, Harry and I were still sitting in the kitchen, still talking and trying to comprehend.  
  
"Harry..." I started, unsure of how to say what I was feeling. "I... I just wanted to tell you I'm sorry. I'm sorry for not taking better care of you, of not being there for you. I realize this is as hard for you as it is for me, but sometimes, it is difficult to see other people's pain if you are lost in your own."  
  
He accepted my apology with a shrug and a feeble smile. "It's not as if I had been any better."  
  
And there was an understanding between us from then on, that we were in this together. 


	3. Chapter 03: Harry

THAT SUMMER, Chapter 3  
By Reija Linn  
  
Harry  
  
The days were getting better as another week passed. Though I still felt numb, it was much easier to talk about my feelings with Bill, and listen to his in return, after the first step had been made. And slowly, to the outward world, our lives went back to normal. At least we had regular meals and every-day stuff like that.  
  
I also started my training with the pharaoh's subordinate, a cranky old wizard by the name of Azhame. He was moody, and always unsatisfied with my progress, rubbing it under my nose that he'd taught six-year-olds with more talent than me, but after an initiate time of feeling irritated about this, I guessed correctly that it was just his way of spurring me on. And he knew a lot about the Dark Arts, and fighting against them, guess he had to as the pharaoh's most trusted man.  
  
And I had to admit, in comparison to what I was learning from him, even the Advanced DADA classes I'd attended in Hogwarts were but child-play. I even got to fight a live mummy, not to mention learning to ward off some of the fiercest curses as well of our times as of the Ancient Egyptian period.  
  
So although my pain had not lessened at Ron's death, and Mr. Weasley's of course, my days were far too occupied to ponder on it too much. Guess you could call it a kind of repression, if you wanted to, but at least I had something to do.  
  
The nights were a totally different matter altogether. Again and again I replayed the scene in my mind, each night after finally falling asleep. Ron and I, clinging closely to each other, each trying to protect the other, both of us unable to *do* anything, to act, even with seven years of Defense Against the Dark Arts lessons. Mr. Weasley, throwing himself before us, catching the curse that was meant for me... Bill, shouting in terror while throwing a curse of his own at the Death Eaters... Ron, slipping out of my grasp, running to where his father had fallen... jumping between me and the Death Eater's at the last second, not even noticing the blinding light around him until it was too late... the shocked disbelief on his open-mouthed face, as the green light of the Avada Kedavra curse engulfed him... three last words silently spoken, before he collapsed... the green light that was encircling me, too, and for some reason, once again in my life, took no effect... another one who had given his life for me out of pure love...  
  
Most of the time I managed to wake myself before coming to that point.  
  
But one night I woke up screaming at this replayed memory I hadn't even fully remembered before. And then, sitting upright in bed, I cried like a small child at the injustice of it all. That curse, both of them, had been meant for *me*, and such wonderful people as Ron and Mr. Weasley hadn't deserved to die just for *my* sake.  
  
Suddenly, I felt a hand on my shoulder, warm even through the thin cloth of my t-shirt, trying to get me out of my state, but I was far too lost in the memory to even acknowledge it's presence, until I felt a pair of strong arms encircling me, pulling me to a shacking bare chest. I then realized that Bill, who was holding me, who was attempting to comfort me, was crying also.  
  
I don't know how long we sat there, trying to comfort each other, slightly rocking in our embrace, before we both fell asleep on my bed, still holding to each other as if to dear life. I don't know which of us fell asleep first, but I know that the rest of the night thankfully passed dreamlessly.  
  
When I woke the next morning, I felt slightly ashamed for waking Bill in the middle of the night with my nightmares. But then, I guessed since he had been crying, too, he'd either been awake at the time, or having a nightmare of his own.  
  
Bill had already gotten up, I could hear the sounds of dishes in the kitchen, and was that a frying pan? Despite the terror of the previous night, I suddenly felt hungry, and after quickly getting fully dressed, I entered the small kitchen.  
  
'Morning, sleepy-head,' Bill acknowledged my presence without turning, as if the previous night hadn't happened at all. For which I was grateful. We didn't speak again until he set two plates loaded with scrambled eggs, bacon and toast down on the table and placed himself opposite me. And though the dark shadows under his eyes reminded me of the previous night, I couldn't but respond to his smile with one of my own. It wasn't totally happy - but then, neither was his.  
  
"I'm going back to work, tomorrow," he announced over breakfast. "Will you..."  
  
"Yeah, I'll be alright." Azhame's lessons started at early evening, and I'd have to spend all day alone in the flat - I wasn't feeling up to leaving it and take a look at the town yet - but it would be alright. I'd still have Hedwig for company - she had been vastly neglected during the past two weeks. And although it was hard to accept, we *did* have to get on with our lives. Plus, I reckoned work would take Bill's mind off everything at least for a little while, as my lessons did for me.  
  
"I got an owl from Percy this morning," he added, looking at me with hazel eyes. "He says he's doing okay, considering."  
  
I nodded, not knowing what to reply to this.  
  
"The doctor's have finally allowed him to visit my Mum. They say she's improving, though she still hasn't spoken a word, since... well."  
  
Bill, as I, was still unable to say it. But I understood.  
  
"Charlie offered him to stay in Rumania with him, but Percy thinks it's his duty to stay with Mum, and do whatever he can at the ministry. At least he has a post now in which he can achieve at least a little."  
  
I nodded into my eggs, amazed at my own inability to phrase any coherent sentence.  
  
"Harry..." I looked up, startled at the softness his voice had taken on, suddenly, after the monotonous tone he had used before. "It's alright, you know. I feel like that, too. I have nightmares, and I cry myself into sleep, and I wonder if life can ever go back to normal. And I just want to find something I can bloody *do* about everything. But it seems were damned to idleness right now, though your lessons with Azhame are a good starting point. But we should never be ashamed for feeling, you know."  
  
And I knew then I was not alone with this grief. I'd known before, intellectually, but I'd been used to everyone depending on *me* being strong all my life, I don't think I ever learned to lean on someone else. Even with Ron and I, it was always the other way round...  
  
"Thanks, Bill."  
  
We spent the day practicing some of the counter-curses Azhame had taught me, and I found Bill knew a great deal about Defense Against the Dark Arts - of course, he was curse-breaker for Gringotts, and they only employed highly-specialized people, as far as I knew. We decided to learn together, in mute agreement that when the day arrived when we could return to England, we would fight together, as much for justice as to avenge the people we'd lost.  
  
That day was the first time in two weeks I felt I belonged somewhere, if only for the time being, and the first time I had something to live for, if it was only the thoughts of vengeance at the time.  
  
When we took a late supper after I'd returned from my lessons for the day - Azhame was a strict teacher, and did not allow even for a single day off, not even on a Sunday - I told Bill something I had never told anyone before.  
  
"Ron..." I faltered at the name, I hadn't spoken it since... "Your brother and I were lovers, you know. We didn't tell anyone, I'm not sure why, I guess we were both afraid people would react badly..."  
  
In Bill's eyes, I saw no revulsion, only pain and sympathy, so I continued. "We only got together last summer, when I was staying at the Burrow... we didn't even tell Hermione, and when we were finally ready to, there were too many other things on everyone's mind, our own ones included. That's the reason he wanted to join me here so desperately. It was his own choice, I actually tried to persuade him otherwise, but he was so persistent... and in a way, I was selfish, I didn't want to face everything alone, and I didn't want to be parted from him for so long."  
  
Bill's eyes lit with understanding, and compassion. Silently, he moved behind, only slightly touching my shoulder, but it was an assuring touch. "And now you feel guilty, right?"  
  
I desperately tried to blink back the upwelling tears that threatened to break loose any moment. "Yes," I whispered, almost inaudibly, but I guess Bill understood anyway, since the pressure on my shoulder grew slightly firmer, and he finally said, almost as silently as I myself had spoken,  
  
"We all do, Harry. Even though none of us is to blame, we all do."  
  
We went to bed then, and it was for pure comfort and need of warmth, at least back then, that we no longer slept in our separate beds, but shared Bill's narrow bunk together. 


	4. Chapter 04: Bill

THAT SUMMER, Chapter 4  
By Reija Linn  
  
Bill  
  
It was hard, returning to everyday life, but not as difficult as I'd imagined. The worst were the sympathetic looks people threw me all day, the 'feeling better?'s and 'I know it's hard, but's. At least the Goblins were okay. They didn't care much one way or the other, they never asked questions, and they surely never dealt out compassion.  
  
And at least, the work kept my mind off things at least for a while everyday.  
  
My life soon seemed to go along it's usual lines, except for my own knowledge of the events, and of course, Harry's presence in my flat, cherished for the company in this hard time, someone who would not be simply sympathetic, but who knew and shared the pain. Yet at the same time a constant reminder.  
  
But all in all, his presence was for the better... I don't think I would have caught myself so quickly if I had been left to my own devices. Probably would have drowned in self-pity for weeks and months. Percy and I exchanged owls as often as we could, considering the harsh borders that had now been drawn up around Britain - many letters never reached their destiny, and we had to phrase very carefully what we wrote each other, for one thing so that the guards would know it wasn't some secret message between Voldemort-supporters, and for the other so that if the letters fell into the hands of the Dark Side, no information could be conveyed.  
  
Mum was improving further, though very slowly, and Percy was doing his best to further actions against the Dark Side, though there was little he could do without more support from other members of the ministry.  
  
Charlie and I also exchanged owls, and those could be written by far more easily, since post between Egypt and Rumania hardly meant any risk at all.  
  
The twins were recovering remarkably from the shock, though they were as shocked and grieved as any of us, they found it by far more easy to find comfort - after all, they always had each other. Charlie never told too much of his own feelings, as he never did in letters, but I understood his subtext, and it made us bond closer than we had in years.  
  
As to Ginny - she was probably the most affected of us all. After all, she's the youngest, and she hadn't dealt with anything of the kind before. We'd considered taking her off the school after her class teacher had told us about her refusal to eat properly, and after one occurrence during which she was brought to the hospital wing with acute alcohol poisoning, but when we suggested this to her, she refused outright. We could have made her leave - after all, Charlie and I were her legal guardians for the time being - but we thought it to be quite counter-productive. And at least she got some support from her boyfriend Pierre - a half-orphan, who at least knew a little of how to help her through this all. Though she refused to speak to us at all through owl or any other way except for telling us to leave her alone.  
  
Harry was coping as best he could, as was I, and we actually shocked each other the first time we found we could, even if only for a short time, still laugh at some joke or funny situation.  
  
So, except for Ginny, we were all improving with time, though Harry and I still shared a bed at night.  
  
Sometimes, I felt guilty about this. After all, I was thirteen years older than him, and to top this the elder brother of his dead boyfriend. I felt I should have been stronger, should have offered consolation but not require it - but deep in my heart I understood it could only be this way and no other. We could only help each other by admitting we both felt pain, and not let it drift into one direction or the other. Harry would never accept comfort from anyone, unless he were in the same boat with them, and as to me... well, as the oldest in a large family, you weren't exactly used to be the one receiving, but that didn't mean you didn't need it from time to time, especially in such painful matters as this was.  
  
Considering what later became of our situation, many people would accuse me of taking advantage of Harry, but we both know it wasn't like that. We just needed to hold on to something, to someone, had to feel there was still someone there, someone alive. Someone we held responsibility for, and that, too, was true in both directions. I guess you're always stronger when there's someone in need of you than you are on your own.  
  
Another thing; at that time, I saw in Harry not more or less than a sibling, something between a brother and a close friend. Our sharing a bed was as natural, and as harmless as could be, the giving and taking of consolation, the feeling of holding the other if he was having a nightmare or a flashback or was simple mourning, and the feeling of being hold if you were the one who needed it.  
  
I guess I've never felt as close to anyone, except for my own family, as I felt for Harry, though.  
  
And the most important thing of all was, that we could talk. I remember one night clearly, when I was shaken to awareness by Harry, and felt tears on my own cheeks, though I couldn't remember crying them.  
  
"It's alright, Bill," he soothed me then, "you were having a nightmare."  
  
We lay awake for a long time, breathing deeply as to act as if sleeping, though both of us knew the other was still awake, without even looking to see each other's eyes - we both had them open.  
  
It was Harry who broke the silence. "Bill?" I only nodded in response, but knew he would feel the motion, if not see it. "Bill, who is Tina? It's just, you were calling that name in your... in your dream."  
  
I admit I played with the thought of lying for a second - but not longer. "Tina was my sister. She died when I nine years old, in an attack on our house. During Voldemort's last reign. In a fire. She was only four years old. I don't even really remember how she looked, and there are no photographs left of her... but I remember the sound of her laughter."  
  
We lay silent again for a long time after that, in mutual embrace.  
  
"The worst," I suddenly said, "is not remembering. Not remembering a person, once dear to you, your own sister, in every aspect. It's as if her life had just been wiped from this planet, with no traces left except for the feeble memories of the child you once were. The worst is being able to say her name without feeling the pain, knowing you've healed, knowing this is good, yet feeling guilty about it. I'm afraid, afraid that one day, though my memory will not fade as a child's, one day I'll be able to say their names and not feel the stab of pain. I'm afraid I'll one day stop remembering this day as vividly, and see it only as a memory. I don't like feeling hurt, but I can't imagine living without a thousand needles in my chest anymore, and I don't know if I want to. Loose this hurt. Loose this anger."  
  
"You won't. Neither of us will. It will just... change, that is all. Transform from fresh pain into mourning, from mourning into grief. And from destructing grief to accepting grief. We won't forget who they were, or what they were like. Ever."  
  
And I knew that he was right. Who ever had given this child so much wisdom? Ah, but I had long stopped to think of Harry as a child. After sharing so much, we were equals in every aspect, despite the thirteen years between us in age. And I realized that, though we had before only met on few occasions, Harry had always been ahead of his years. How much pain did one have to experience, to grow old so fast?  
  
I remembered meeting Harry for the first time when he was fourteen, at my parent's house. And how much he had reminded me of myself at that age. I, too, had been ahead of my years then, after Tina's death and all our family had went through at the time. My parents had even sent me to counseling because of this. The therapist had called it a 'normal reaction'.  
  
Harry and I had talked about his time with his Muggle aunt and uncle, and I couldn't imagine what that must have felt like to a child, to grow up like that. Sure, we had tragedy in our family, but at least we had always had each other, and the love we shared. Harry had never experienced love in all the time he lived with those Muggles, and I was truly amazed at how such a compassionate and caring person could have yet been the outcome of this sort of upbringing. Shouldn't he be full of hatred, and mistrust towards the world?  
  
Yet he lay there in my arms, allowing himself to be held, and allowing to hold someone, despite the vulnerability this sort of trust could always mean.  
  
Over the years, I've never accepted much comfort from anyone, part of it certainly because of being the oldest of my siblings. But at least I had always known of the possibility to turn to someone, should I need it.  
  
Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, on the other hand, knew what utter loneliness was.  
  
And in a fierce fit of protectiveness, I swore in that night that he would never have to feel this loneliness in his life again. 


	5. Chapter 05: Harry

THAT SUMMER, Chapter 5  
By Reija Linn  
  
Harry  
  
The next weekend after that night during which Bill told me about Tina, we went out for the first time. Oh, of course we had been to the grocery store next door, Bill went to work, and I had to go to Azhame's lessons, but apart from that we hadn't left the flat in the past three weeks.  
  
Summer in Egypt was hot, hotter than anything I'd ever experienced in England. And when the winds blew, you had to shield your eyes from the sand that seemed to be everywhere except for the large cities, or at least the rich parts thereof. We wore long-sleeved white robes with hoods to protect us from the sun, and I had to carry sun-tan lotion around with me all the time. Bill was more used to the sun here, though he admitted even he was having a hard time in the summer, especially because of the Weasley-typical fair complexion (though his skin was darker than that of... the others. must be a side effect of having living in Egypt for so long).  
  
The town was very interesting. Of course, I had known about the bazaars, the traders who shouted at every passer-by that their goods were the best, the women who wore veils as to conceal their faces, but it was quite different to see, hear, and, unfortunately, smell it all, than to just hear someone (Ron) talk about it.  
  
And the pyramids! Of course, I had been to one of them before, although they were tombs, or maybe just because of that, Azhame held his lessons in one. Such large buildings, and all made by hand (yeah, through the hard-work of thousands and thousands of slaves and cheap workers, many of whom had died). Made for one single person, one single dead person to lie in eternally.  
  
And so full of magic! I could feel a tingling in all of my body each time we came close to one. Some produced a slightly burning feeling in my scar - I reckoned that some of the old pharaohs had been powerful dark wizards, or perhaps their attendants, and had placed fierce curses on their resting places.  
  
Bill also showed me several places that were reserved for magical folk - they even had a cool nightclub there, and an all-wizard pub owned by a tiny little witch named Shezra, who knew really everything there was to know about magical folk in Egypt, or so it seemed. She also was, I later learned, one of the pharaoh's own spies, perfectly placed for hearing every word that was on the streets.  
  
She didn't serve butterbeer, though. But it would have reminded me too much, anyway.  
  
When I went to have my lessons that day, Azhame was, if at all possible, even more grumpy than was usual for him. I decided to do my best during the lessons, and ask him later what was wrong, but he actually told me himself, after I'd gotten the extremely difficult Spirit-of-Akasha curse wrong for the third time.  
  
"Ah, Harry. You are impossible to teach! Even my youngest pupil is better at that curse than you are! And this is still one of my easiest lessons! However am I supposed to present you to the pharaoh at the end of this summer?"  
  
"The - WHAT?" The pharaoh in Egypt was far less likely to meet than our minister of Magic in England, I'd learned, and it was only through Dumbledore's connections that I had even been granted lessons by his personal protector.  
  
"The pharaoh, don't tell me you don't know who he is. Oh. But I forgot to tell you. The pharaoh, who is an extremely busy man, by the way, has, by some reason unknown to me, been intrigued by your life story, and your current task. The Divine One seems to believe you could actually be the savior your home country is waiting for at the moment. Something about old prophesies... well. He has asked me to bring you before him as soon as you are ready, and has asked me how soon that would be, to which I foolishly answered 'before the winter will break'. However, at the rate you are learning, I will be long dead before that time arrives."  
  
During the first week with Azhame, this comment would have angered me - if I had one extreme character fault at the time, and probably still, it was that I couldn't accept failure in my own person. I'd never learned to loose a competition or a challenge. And Azhame reminded me far too much of Professor Snape back at Hogwart's.  
  
However, I knew at that time that Azhame was just trying to push me further, to help me extend my limits. I even got the insane idea that Snape could have been trying to do the same - until I remembered his favouring the Slytherins far too often. And meeting the pharaoh personally! At once I decided to double my efforts, though I'd thought I'd reached my maximum before, and I didn't miss my old teacher's half-smile as I got the curse right at the fourth attempt.  
  
So Azhame was pleased, after all. Should have known extreme crankiness was his way of showing pleasure.  
  
That same night, I dreamt of Ron again, but not as usual, replaying his death, but the time before. Back at Hogwarts. I remembered the jokes we made, I dreamt of the fun we'd had.  
  
And I also dreamt of our first, awkward kisses behind the broomshed, and the first time he had crept under my covers in the middle of the night...  
  
The first time we had touched, the first time we had explored our bodies, the first time we had...  
  
But the pain was to great, the knowledge of later events returned, and I woke up in Bill's bed, in Bill's arms. Terrified, I noticed the vivid dreams had not been without the natural biological consequence.  
  
I shifted uncomfortably, trying to wriggle out of his arms that were embracing me, making the situation only worse by brushing the evidence of my dreams against his upper thigh. I gasped at that, a sound that was unbearably loud in my own ears - was Bill asleep? He seemed to be. But what if he wasn't?  
  
I could feel embarrassment rising up in me at the thought, especially as Bills arms tightened around me. He *had* to be asleep, right? And this was only a natural reaction on his part to my trying to extract myself from his embrace, right?  
  
I didn't think then that I could stand the thought of him being awake, and having felt my arousal, even though it had only been the natural reaction to a dream. I felt guilty even at having such dreams, after what had happened. How could I be thinking about such things as sex, even as subconscious a thought as a dream.  
  
What shocked me even more was that the erection did not even fade. Not as I had realized where I was, not at the shock this had provided, and not at the knowledge that this was Bill lying in the bed with me, not Ron. Not at the scent of Bill, which was quite unlike Ron's. Not at the feeling of arms stronger than Ron's. Not at the dimmed sight darkness provided of long red hair, instead of short red bristles, or at Bill's features, that were, although he already had slight wrinkles around mouth and eyes and was suntanned, so much softer than Ron's. Ron had had a cheerful, open face, rather boyish-looking, while Bill's features were more feminine, though there was nothing effeminate about him either physically or in his behavior.  
  
I realized, though, that every effort on my part to flee this embrace would only increase the chance that Bill would wake up and notice any of this, so all I did was lie there, trying to calm my own breathing, trying to silence the drum-like beating of my heart.  
  
And hoping that he would *not* wake up, in spite of being sure that this loud, thundering noise that was my heartbeat could wake even the deepest sleeper.  
  
Eventually, my erection subsided, though, my biological functions started to sound the way they were supposed to, again, and I could finally fall back asleep again.  
  
The next day was a Saturday, so Bill, who, as an employee of a British company, even though placed abroad, was working by British standards, including regular weekends, had the day off, and my lessons wouldn't start until evening again. So we slept late, and had breakfast with leisure, deciding on how we were going to spend the day. I was, perhaps, a little more quiet as usual, after the last night's events, but I didn't think Bill noticed.  
  
Just then, there was a knock at the door - yeah, no doorbell, an old-fashioned knocker. Bill went to open it, and moments later returned with a little girl of perhaps eleven, with a dirty face and filthy hair, but smiling broadly. She did not say her name, but I had learned that the kids who lived on the streets here, and that was as what I recognized her immediately - did not like being asked for their name.  
  
"Master Azhame sents me," she spoke in broken English. "I am to says to Master 'Arry, that he is gone to Monday, and that Master 'Arry shall go over his lessons alone to then."  
  
Relieved at having delivered her message in a way that I could understand, she now hungrily eyed our breakfast table. Bill spoke a few words to her in Arabic that I didn't understand, but I guessed (correctly) that he had invited her to eat something, as she bowed shortly and then started to lunge at the loaf of bread that lay on the table.  
  
"Seems I have a day off," I noted to Bill, who actually replied with a half-smile.  
  
"Well," he replied, "how about a beer or something at Shezra's pub, then, this evening? And we can go over your lessons together before that, if you'd like to."  
  
"Sounds like a good idea."  
  
Pain had not lessened yet. But we both knew we had to get a break at one point or the other, and at the time, an evening at the wizard pub sounded like just the right thing. 


	6. Chapter 06: Bill

THAT SUMMER, Chapter 6  
By Reija Linn  
  
Bill  
  
It has been a long time (at least, it feels that way), since that summer I spent with Harry in Egypt, but there is one thing I still haven't told him, up to this day. I'm not quite sure why, myself, but somehow, I never found the courage.  
  
That night, the first time there had been anything remotely sexual between us, I hadn't been sleeping, at least not all the time. I woke from the feeling of Harry trying to extract himself from my arms, and instinctively pulled him close again - that was when I felt his erection pressing against my thigh, heard his panicked breathing, felt him stiffen in my arms.  
  
Now, it wasn't that I had a problem with that - I concluded he had been having a dream about his time with Ron, and that would be a natural reaction to a dream of that kind. What disturbed me deeply was, that it aroused me, too. Not physically, I was, after all, no teenager anymore, and had learnt to control certain body functions. And at the time, this arousal was, I was sure of that, not directed at Harry, really, but more a reaction to a warm, aroused, male body in my arms - nothing to be ashamed of.  
  
After all, I had just been woken from sleep, and though I did not think myself attracted to Harry, he was a handsome young man, and I was only human.  
  
Yet, I felt bad about it. After all, this still was Harry in my bed, Harry, whom I had come to see as a brother. Harry, who was thirteen years younger than me, the same age as my youngest brother had been. And though I hardly ever noticed our age difference in everyday life anymore, I felt like some kind of pedophile by feeling that way, even if it was only biological.  
  
So, I feigned sleep.  
  
I still wonder, though, why I have never told him this later. But I suppose we all have our secrets.  
  
And I guess I feel a little guilty, even now, when I consider what happened the very next night.  
  
But I'm drifting ahead.  
  
That evening, Harry's first 'day off' since he'd started lessons with the pharaoh's attendant, we did go to Shezra's pub. I'd considered the nightclub, for a brief moment - but I didn't think either of us was ready for that, so we sat at the bar in the little witches' pub, having a drink or two (or, I admit, maybe a few more than that), and tried to talk, for once, about things that had nothing to do with death and loss and war.  
  
Shezra herself was pleasant company, dealing out valuable information about the situation in England packed into mindless gossip very cleverly. She also seemed very taken with Harry, you could practically watch her eyes soften when she looked at him. She also gave him the pet name 'Chosen'.  
  
I had heard the rumors that Shezra was a seer, of course, though she vehemently denied this when asked. I wondered what she was seeing, though, when she looked at Harry. Though I have never been a great believer in the divination arts, them being so very unreliable, I did of course know there were true seers, though far less than those who merely called themselves this. And if anyone I'd met in my life fit my picture of a seer, it was Shezra - especially since she so wanted to make everybody believe otherwise.  
  
Plus, there was that comment she dropped when Harry once left for the men's room, that evening. Then, it seemed irrelevant, but looking back...  
  
"Take care of your Little One, Bill, for his burden will be hard. Be true to yourself."  
  
Anyone could have said it. Empty words. Only, out of Shezra's mouth, it sounded like a prophecy.  
  
"What do you mean by 'my Little One'?"  
  
Come to think of it, she never did answer me.  
  
Of course, things were going much too smoothly by then, and something was almost bound to happen. Harry seemed a little more reluctant to relax in my embrace that night - I admit, so was I.   
  
Not that I felt anything of my arousal of the night before - as I said, back then, our embrace was little more than comfort and brotherly love. I still felt bad about it, nonetheless.  
  
We both had had a couple of drinks that evening, but much as I would have liked to put it on to that, I was feeling remarkably sober.  
  
I dreamt, that night, of drowning. I dreamt of a large impact, of falling, of waves crashing over me, I saw my own face at the surface, or was it only a reflection? But how could my reflection be crying, if I was underwater? I dreamt of being unable to breathe, dreamt of a world of darkness and pain, as white water lilies swam above me on the surface.  
  
And I dreamt, finally, of being pulled to the surface, of warm lips on mine, breathing life into me...  
  
That was when I woke to find myself kissing Harry. Or the other way around. I never did find out.  
  
This shocked me to no end. What was the meaning of that dream? And why, though I no longer returned the kiss, did I not pull back?  
  
Until, suddenly, those lips retreated as if bitten, and I was too startled to pretend I was sleeping this time, so I only looked at Harry, whose eyes were wide with shock, as were mine, probably.  
  
"I... I..." he stammered, nervously, unable to forma coherent sentence.  
  
And driven by my own guilt, by my own earlier response to this kiss, by the situation of the night before, I said something that inflicted yet more pain on this should I had sworn to protect from such.  
  
"I am not Ron, Harry."  
  
I could see the hurt, and, seconds later, the anger rise up in his eyes.  
  
"No, You are not Ron. Neither am I. Bastard."  
  
I didn't understand his reaction then. I don't think even he himself did. But then, neither of us understood mine, for it had been nothing but cruel.  
  
Harry spent the rest of the night on his own bunk, that had been abandoned for two weeks, but was still built up, for some reason.  
  
Our breakfast the morning after was taken in silence. I felt bad about what had transpired, but I couldn't bring myself to say the simple words 'I am sorry'. And Harry refused to meet my eyes.  
  
As the day passed, we spoke to each other again - but only about nullities, and as, after endless hours, night came, we went to sleep in separate bunks as if it had never been otherwise. 


	7. Chapter 07: Harry

THAT SUMMER, Chapter 7  
By Reija Linn  
  
Harry  
  
I could not understand, as much as I'd tried, what exactly had transpired that night.  
  
I had been dreaming of Ron, again. I was at Hogwarts, behind the broomshed, where he and I had first admitted our love to each other - and I was alone. But my surroundings were different than I remembered them, though unmistakably I was within Hogwart's grounds. Before me, the earth was broken, as if by a huge earthquake, a large crack in the earth, as deep as nothing I had ever seen before - I could not see the ground, but I could hear something rumbling down there, a moaning sound, but so evil I could feel no compassion for whatever creature it was that was trapped in there.  
  
Behind me, I could see the school building, enclosed in swirling blue, white, red and green lights, as if a magical battle was being fought there. Above my head, there were swarms upon swarms of owls, brown, white, grey, even one or two of the rare black-feathered ones. In the distance, a raven's scream could be heard, and I felt tears on my own cheeks, tasted salt as they fell from my lips to the ground and down the hole in the earth that seemed to go to the very core of the planet.  
  
And suddenly, I saw Ron standing before me, though we were parted by the rift, and try as I might, I could not cross it for it was so wide. And Ron just stood there, almost translucent, as a spirit or ghost - which he probably was - though not silvery like the ghosts I had known at Hogwarts, just... paled, somehow devout of colour... lifeless. He just stood there, not even trying to come across to my side, smiling a smile wiser and more knowing than I had ever seen him smile while he was alive, as though he could see things i could not.  
  
"Hello, Harry."  
  
"Ron!" I screamed, in terror that he might leave me, but he merely continued to smile at me.  
  
"Harry, listen to me, I don't have much time."  
  
I nodded, unable to do anything more, realizing I could not overcome this rift that spread endlessly to both sides up to the horizon, that was dyed in deep crimson red.  
  
"Harry, I am dead. I am touched that you feel so much sorrow for my sake, for it tells me you loved me as much as I loved you, as I still do - and believe me, I would have it that we had more time together - if I could. Unfortunately, I am not granted this. But don't give your own life up on me. I've watched you, and I know you're slowly adjusting, now - don't ever feel guilty because of that. I wish for you to be happy, you know - only then can I leave to wherever I'm supposed to go next - I can already hear them calling my name... still, remember I will always be with you in the battle that is to come, I am sure this will be granted by whoever can decide upon that...  
  
"You have to be strong, now, Harry, for yourself, and for my family, too - I've visited Ginny in her dreams, too, but she refuses to believe I am there, and turns away... and Mum..."  
  
His smile disappeared for a moment, as grief was visible on his features, but returned seconds later.  
  
"Goodbye, Harry... I love you, and always will."  
  
Suddenly, he was standing before me, though I had not seen him cross the rift, and I felt warm lips on mine, felt arms encircling me... a last smile as we pulled apart, and he faded even more, until I could hardly recognize him, his touch was as soft and as ungraspable as the shallow wind around me.  
  
And then, the misty figure seemed to thicken, to take on colour and texture again, but it was not Ron who stood before me in the mist that suddenly engulfed us, that hid the castle, the Hogwarts grounds and the rift, yes, even the ground I had to be standing on, from view. Long red hair, soft and unbound, falling over shoulders that were broader, and stronger, though the waist I was embracing was slimmer than Ron's, no longer Ron's soft blue eyes, but hazel eyes distorted with sadness, not Ron's arms encircling me, not Ron standing before me, but a figure that was taller, and leaner - Bill, who was smiling, despite the grief in his eyes.  
  
It seemed natural to continue the earlier kiss, though it was not Ron before me but his brother, with whom I had shared the loss of the one dearest to me.  
  
That was when I woke up to find myself in a bed, and though I knew not at once where I was, it suddenly felt wrong to be kissing this form before me, to be kissing Bill - and then I remembered.  
  
I pulled back as if poisoned, hoping against hope that perhaps he was asleep - then his eyes opened wide, shocked, and my world was crushed to pieces as I realized what I had just done, as I tried to apologise, to tell him I had not wanted to... the words would not roll over my tongue, that felt as if plastered.  
  
"I am not Ron, Harry."  
  
Those words, after what I had dreamt, and it hurt so much to hear them...  
  
"I am not Ron, Harry."  
  
No, he wasn't Ron, but why did he not understand...  
  
"I am not Ron, Harry."  
  
No, he wasn't Ron, and I didn't know what had come over me, why I had dreamt of him, Bill. But I felt anger at this statement. I hadn't mistaken him for Ron, I knew the moment I'd woken that it was wrong, had to be wrong...  
  
"I am not Ron, Harry."  
  
And though I knew not what devil had ridden me to kiss him, I could not understand his harsh reaction. Did he think I was trying to find a substitute for my lover? Sure he must know that was impossible, just as it had to be impossible for him to envision his dead brother in anyone...  
  
"No, you are not Ron."  
  
But perhaps that was all he thought we were to each other? He, my substitute for Ron, and I...  
  
"Neither am I."  
  
And why had he woken these feelings of hate and guilt in me, when all it would have taken was a couple of seconds to let me explain, to let me apologise...  
  
"Bastard."  
  
There, the words were out, they couldn't be taken back, and though I did notice his hurt expression, I was too hurt myself to take pity on him, and retreated from his bed in anger.  
  
My own bunk felt cold and empty, and I felt like crying, trying to will these things that had happened away, but unable to do so.  
  
The rest of the night passed, and I was drifting in and out of sleep, but I did not dream again, and I knew instinctively that Ron would not come back to me... he had left me, now, and Bill and I had left each other, though we were separated only by a couple of metres, this distance seemed as impossible to overcome as the rift in my dream had been.  
  
As the next day passed, I felt sorry about what I had said, and I wished to believe he was feeling sorry, too, but I could not bring myself to do the first step and apologise, so I spent the next night alone in my bed, that felt so cold and desolate despite the warm Egypt air.  
  
As my lessons started again on Monday, I felt I had lost my will to fight, and Azhame was most unsatisfied with me. Surprisingly, he did not respond with his usual crankiness, but let me do the same things over and over again, hardly speaking a word, not of rebuff, and not of encouragement - so this was what he was like when he *really* was displeased with a pupil. I wanted to show him I was worthy of his tutoring, but I no longer felt the drive in me to do so, no longer felt I could change anything with these lessons, no longer felt anger or will to fight, but just loneliness and smallness, as if I was too tiny to bring about anything.  
  
For two weeks, I had believed that even though Ron had left me I still wasn't alone, but now...  
  
Of course, there were the people I'd known and cared for for years. There was Sirius, my godfather, with whom I'd been living every summer since the end of the fifth year of school, when his record was finally cleared. There was Hermione, whom I had known since first year, and who had always been a dear friend. There were many people I'd called friends, but they were all far away, and I could not envision myself sharing my pain about this with any of them.  
  
Of course, there were the people I'd known and cared for for years. There was Sirius, my godfather, with whom I'd been living every summer since the end of the fifth year of school, when his record was finally cleared. There was Hermione, whom I had known since first year, and who had always been a dear friend. There were many people I'd called friends, but they were all far away, and I could not envision myself sharing my pain about this with any of them.  
  
Bill had been the only one I could share my feelings so openly with, partly because he was just as hurt as I was, partly because everyone else was living their own life, far away from Egypt, and partly because... I didn't know what else, though I felt there was more to it, I couldn't place my finger on it, and wasn't sure I wanted to.  
  
I wished then that I could at least feel anger at him, as I had that night, but I could not, I could not bring myself to feel much at all except for a sudden emptiness I didn't wish to examine more closely, least it bring forth things I did not wish to know.  
  
I my heart, the answer was hidden somewhere, but my heart had fooled my once, in my dream, how could I ever trust it again? 


	8. Chapter 08: Bill

THAT SUMMER, Chapter 8  
By Reija Linn  
  
Bill  
  
One week passed like this between us, and it seemed there was no end in sight. Oh, we talked, even about some things beyond 'hullo' and 'bye' and 'pass me the salt, please', but we were no longer close as we had been, and any attempt from my side to talk to Harry was cut short by him. Congratulating myself on my delicacy, I grudgingly accepted that for the time being, things would remain like this.  
  
I got notice from Percy the next week that Mum had fallen back in her healing progress, and that she was now raving about Dad and Ron still being alive. She had, apparently, seen them in her dreams, and had mistaken this for reality.  
  
The week before, I would have spoken to Harry about this, but it seemed we had nothing to say to each other anymore, so I didn't.  
  
Also, Charlie and I were informed by Beauxbaton's head-mistress that Ginny was doing worse, also, and that though she had asked to be allowed to stay at school for the summer holidays, she thought it better if we took her home. We decided, though hesitantly, that we would take her home against her will, and that she was to stay with Charlie in Rumania - he had a large house to his use, which he had rented with some of his friends, and more possibilities to take of her, since he could adjust his working hours however he pleased with his friends - they took turns in taking care of the dragons.  
  
The twins, on the other hand, were doing remarkably well. They were now actually learning some things about handling dragons from Charlie's friends - a fact that Charlie didn't like all too much, in his words 'can't understand how you can let two whirl-winds like that into any proximity of dragons' - but then, the twins were grown, and could basically do whatever they wanted to, which they shamelessly turned to good account.  
  
Harry also received a packet of letters that week, one from Albus Dumbledore, which, as he told me, was to inform him that they were running out of time, and would have to go into action soon. The others were bundled together, one from Sirius Black, his godfather, one from Hermione, his and Ron's friend from school, and a couple of others with names that were unfamiliar to me.  
  
I wondered about this, as writing letters was so difficult in England these days, each letter was checked by at least three bureaus, but Harry did not elaborate on them, though I noticed he seemed touched - I also noticed he only opened Dumbledore's letter, and left the others unopened for the time being. Was this for some special occasion, then? The package was actually labeled 'Don't open before 31st!" - then I remembered that Harry's birthday was somewhere around the end of July.  
  
The 31st was a Friday, but I took the day off from work, though I didn't tell Harry about this. We weren't as close as before, but I was the only one of the people he knew that was here, and I wanted for him to enjoy his birthday at least a little.  
  
So I prepared some things the previous evening, when Harry was gone for his lessons with Azhame, stood up early in the morning, and very quietly as not to wake him, and prepared a birthday breakfast.  
  
Just as I was finished with everything, I heard motion from the main room, and went in to find Harry awake.  
  
"Morning," I greeted him, smiling.  
  
He looked at me dumbfounded. "Aren't you supposed to be at work by now?"  
  
"Thought I'd take a day off. Nothing to do anyway, we just opened a tract yesterday, and the remaining work is mostly evaluation, nothing to do for a curse-breaker. Let's have some breakfast, shall we?"  
  
"Be right along," he said, still a little sleepy, and disappeared into the bathroom, while I disappeared into the kitchen to fry some eggs and sausages.  
  
When Harry stepped into the kitchen minutes later, his eyes widened with child-like wonder, as he took in the table set with breakfast and a large chocolate cake.  
  
"I..." he stammered, obviously unsure of what to make of this.  
  
"Happy Birthday, Harry," I replied, softly, urging him to take a seat.  
  
"But how..."  
  
I grinned. He hadn't been expecting this, and that had been exactly my goal.  
  
"What... what's this?" he asked, as he sat down at the table while I loaded the eggs and sausages onto two plates, pointing at a small parcel on the table.  
  
"What does it look like to you, hm? C'mon, open it." I watched anxiously as he opened the present, hoping that he would understand this was as much a birthday gift as something else. I couldn't help grinning as his eyes widened even more when he had unwrapped the parcel to lay free the parchment case that was inside. It was old and made of rough leather, and the parchment roles inside were made of papyrus paper, covered by tiny writings. It was also written in hieroglyphs, but I knew for a fact that Azhame had taught Harry a deciphering spell which was, in fact, quite easy once you knew how to do it.  
  
"What... I mean thank you..." he stammered, obviously afraid to even touch the book with more than his fingertips.  
  
"It's one of the last remaining volumes of Akasha's writings. I got it from my old teacher who trained me for the curse-breaking business."  
  
"But this is one of the most treasured books of the Dark Arts, and the defense against such that there is."  
  
"Well, then I hope you can bring it to good use, Harry. It was certainly under-used when it was in my possession. At one point, you know all the curses that protect tombs and treasure lots - there really aren't that many. But I couldn't bring myself to sell it, ever, especially since it was a present from my old teacher."  
  
"But... I can't accept this. I mean, it's real valuable and everything, and if it was a present for you..."  
  
"Oh, my teacher would have wanted to see it used. I just didn't want to give it into the hands of someone who would merely look upon it as it's weight in gold, or use the curses contained in a wrong way, because it actually teaches you active cursing, and some of those are real bad, if you don't use them wisely. I trust you will."  
  
"Well then... thank you." I could see he was taken aback by this gift as he carefully placed the rolls of parchment back into their case, and I anxiously wondered whether he took it correctly, after all that had happened between us, but I also couldn't imagine anyone better fitted to give this book to.  
  
"Harry... I hope you can accept this as much as a birthday present, as as a way of apology. I've *been* a bastard, and a bloody one at that. I'm sorry."  
  
I then suddenly found myself with a bunch of Harry in my arms, and shamefully noticed I was actually crying - as was he.  
  
"I'm sorry, too, Bill, I don't know what came over me that night, I was dreaming, and then you said what you said, and I was so hurt, and I thought..."  
  
"Shoo. I know. I shouldn't have said that. I... I don't see you as a substitute for anyone, and I know you don't, either. Let's try and forget it, okay?"  
  
His green eyes beamed at me as we sat down for breakfast, and as we ate, it was almost like before the whole incident again. Something was different, still, something I knew not how to describe, something I did not wish to go into too far, for I knew it was something I wouldn't like knowing about myself, but our old friendship and trust had been restored, finally.  
  
When I told Harry about the letter from Percy I had received, it seemed he paled for a moment, and I was about to hit myself to bringing memories and worries to him on his birthday, until he told me he'd had a dream about Ron, too. He didn't elaborate much, but it was obvious he believed it to have been the spirit of Ron biding him farewell, and as crazy as it sounded, I believed him. After all, most of the things in the wizarding world would sound crazy and superstitious to Muggles, things like magic and flying broomsticks, and ghosts... why shouldn't there be such a thing as spirits?  
  
I also remembered there were Muggles, even, who believed in such things, especially the ones we called "The Awakened", Muggles who could not do our kind of magic themselves, but who could use remnants of magical energy or the energies of their surroundings to do something close to spell-casting or conjuring. Many of them believed in spirits, and had often reported that they had met the spirits of the dead, and though they were excluded from our community as all other Muggles, they were known to sense some things even trained wizards missed, especially since their senses had to be improved to use some magic even though they weren't magical folk.  
  
I decided to tell Charlie about this.  
  
I also decided I would seek out my old teacher, if he was still alive, though I had no idea about his current whereabouts. 


	9. Chapter 09: Harry

THAT SUMMER, Chapter 9  
By Reija Linn  
  
Harry  
  
I was happy beyond all end when Bill and I made up again after almost two weeks of ignorance between us, and it was then I realized how much he had come to mean to me - I didn't realize everything I know now, that was a long way off, still, but I knew then for sure that I couldn't imagine being without his comforting presence, and his warmth any longer. We had come to be so much to each other, more than friends, more than brothers even, in such a short time, that it was kind of frightening, in a way. We would never have found this closeness under other circumstances, I knew that, but in the end, isn't circumstance the trigger for many friendships, and more?  
  
Hermione, for example. We probably wouldn't have become friends as we had, had there not been the incident with the troll during our first year.  
  
Or Ron, even. Sure, I believe we would have become friends, and perhaps even lovers, eventually, but it was by pure chance that he was the first one for me to meet on the Hogwart's Express, it could have just as well been Seamus Finnigan, who later became a dear friend of mine, or Dean Thomas, who was Muggle-born, and would have understood about my fears on that first trip to school.  
  
Or Draco Malfoy, even, had events been a little different. I even found myself wondering about him. He had offered me friendship, once, right in the beginning, a fact I had forgotten over the years, and only remembered during that summer. Okay, it had been in an awkward way, sneering at Ron, my new-found friend, but had it perhaps been honest, anyway? And wasn't it but circumstance that drove us to hate each other so vehemently? The circumstances in the train, the circumstances of his upbringing, for which he could not really be held responsible? Would I have, perhaps, turned out just like that, if I had had Lucius Malfoy for a father?  
  
My own upbringing hadn't been the best, sure, but at least Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia, though cruel in aspects like my sleeping place in the cupboard, had not bothered very much in teaching me anything, while I imagined the older Malfoy had always worked towards bringing his son to the Dark Side. My last year in school, shared with the remaining Slytherins in class, had taught me that parents made a great impact on things like this. No one, I guessed, was born cruel, except for people like Voldemort, perhaps, but trained that way.  
  
And wasn't my whole being a wizard a circumstance? My mother had been Muggle-born, so what where the odds of her being a witch, of being admitted to Hogwarts, and meeting my Dad?  
  
Was not everything in life circumstance? And if this was so, why should it make any difference where and how and in what time you grew close to someone; so close even, that you could not imagine being without that person's presence in your life?  
  
Forgiveness had been easy that day - I had wanted to for the past two weeks, but the words never passed my lips. But seeing the odds Bill had went to, just to make me feel cared for on my birthday, and this incredibly thoughtful gift... it was enough for me to finally realize he had not wanted to hurt me that night, but that he had probably been just as confused and shocked as I.  
  
Azhame was very pleased that I finally put some energy into my lessons again, and showed it by mumbling a vast quantity of pejorative Arabic words every evening. Though he was almost frantic when I showed him my birthday present from Bill, as he asked me in an awed voice where I had got it. He even forgot to sneer that I was unworthy of such an artifact, so taken aback he was.  
  
In that week, I was taught the three unforgivable curses, which was very hard on me. Sure, I had no great liking for beetles and such, but to cause such pain and cruelty on any being, almost broke my heart. And to use the very curse that had killed so many people dear to me, on a living creature... But Azhame insisted the only way to fight the Dark was to know it, in every aspect, and to know oneself - and there was no better opportunity to test your soul than to have control over another, even if it was only a beetle, and an ugly one at that.  
  
I never enjoyed these lessons, but some dark part of me I had never realized existed could understand how it using the Imperius curse could thrill someone, to have this control over another being, total control...  
  
After the evening I had used the Avada Kedavra curse successfully for the first time, I crawled into Bill's bed wordlessly (we had up to then still been using different bunks, none of us had been brave enough to do the first step to sharing a bed again), and wept for what must have been an hour, not able to explain, but feeling extremely comforted by Bill's silent support, who did not urge me to speak, but simply held me to his bare chest, stroking my back and just being *there* until I could blissfully go to sleep. When I told him about the lessons the next day, he nodded his understanding, though he agreed with Azhame that learning these curses was the only way to becoming a worthy opponent to the Dark.  
  
My lessons grew more trying with every day that passed - time was running out, and I was still far from reaching the goal my ambitious teacher had set for me, though I took my lessons with him for hours each evening, and spent the day going through the writings of Akasha while Bill was at work.  
  
In the week following my birthday, Bill received another letter from Charlie, asking us to visit him the next weekend. I had learned to Apparate from Azhame, and my teacher had signed my license himself - as one of the Pharaoh's own men, he was authorised to do this. The distance to Rumania was, of course, too large to Apparate in one go, and Apparition across borders was illegal throughout the wizarding world (which exception from Britain-Ireland, for some reason), and Apparition was straining especially for someone not trained much in it, as I was, so we still had to calculate several hours for the travel.  
  
This being so, I had to ask for leave from Azhame, which he grudgingly granted, though not without rebuffing me about how important my lessons were, and how far behind schedule I still was - I'd learned to love this crankiness by then, though, after two weeks of resigned silence from my teacher.  
  
Bill and I were both looking forward to seeing the others again - even Percy would attend, though traveling in and out of Britain was extremely difficult, these days, and he had only brought this through with his connections at the ministry. Still, we were both nervous, also, about this meeting. Ginny would be there, and she was in a worse shape than ever since her brother and father had died. Also, we both knew we would feel the absence of Mrs. Weasley very strongly - Percy had tried to bring her along, so that she might remain in custody of Charlie instead of at the hospital, but the doctor's had agreed upon the fact that such a journey would probably cause too much strain on her, especially since she was in no condition to Apparate or fly, even, and they would have to travel by ordinary means for all of the journey.  
  
So, when the Friday morning came, and we were both ready and packed, we started the first Apparition with mixed feelings.Through Egypt and over towards Israel, across the Lebanon and Syria, and in two steps through Turkey, where we took a night's rests in Ankara, we passed on to Bulgaria, and finally Rumania, with many breaks in between - luckily, Bill had traveled that distance many times, by broomstick and by Apparition, and new many wizard places along the way where we could pause. Still, the strain was hard on me, and when we finally arrived at Charlie's place Saturday afternoon, I could hardly do more than nod at Charlie and Percy and let myself be passed around by the twins - who obviously held the opinion that the best way to treat travel tiredness was to hug the air out of someone.  
  
I couldn't spot Ginny anywhere, but Charlie led us into the dining room - which was wonderfully furnished, despite the restricted means he and his friends had, and contained a set table, which was very much appreciated by all of us, though at first I was so stomach-sick I could only nibble at the meal (which was real great; it surprised me to hear the twins had prepared it - but then, they had seemed to have learned a great deal during their stay with Charlie and his friends).  
  
The atmosphere was a little strained at first - nobody really knew what to say, it was the first time to be sitting all together like this, but gradually, the silence subsided, as Percy reported about the going-ons in England.  
  
It seemed that Voldemort had assembled even more people than we had initially thought, which explained Dumbledore's urgency in his last letter, and that many people had already fled Britain and had asked for asylum in countries like the United States, Australia or the mainland Europe, thus hoping to escape Voldemort's reach.  
  
Wizard places all throughout the country had been shut down, though Hogwart's was still running with the scarce number of pupils that remained despite the situation. Many official events, as well as Quidditch games, had been completely taken off schedule, and tattoos were raised all over Britain and Ireland.  
  
Of course, there was some good new, too. The German Chancellor, as well as the French President, had sworn an alliance with the Ministry of Magic in fighting the dark, and took on many Hogwarts students as far as their numbers allowed. Even Durmstrang took on a few, though they refused everyone who was below exceedingly talented.  
  
Also, a resistance group under the leadership of Dumbledore had formed, a plan he had informed me of beforehand, but which he had not been able to confirm in his letters, since the risk of them falling into the wrong hands was too great, so I was relieved to hear the plan had worked out. My godfather Sirius, as well as Hermione and Remus Lupin belonged to this group, as did (this time the real) Mad-Eye Moody, and Hogwart's teaching staff, including Severus Snape, and Poppy Pomfrey, who had taken on the hard duty of playing spies to Voldemort.  
  
Many had died already, though fortunately no more of their friends and family, though Percy told me that Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia as well as Dudley had fallen ill to the plague that had been spread by Voldemort amongst Muggles, and had died thereof. They had never been kind to me, or even civil, so I couldn't find it in my heart to mourn for them - but I did know how to forgive, and knew that if there was such a thing as an afterlife - which I desperately wanted to believe - I would hold no grudge against them.  
  
So far the official situation. Personal matters were so much harder to bear. It seemed Mrs. Weasley was still raving about her husband and youngest son still being alive. I was positive that their spirits had visited her, as Ron had come to bid farewell to me, but as well as they had probably meant this, it had destructed more than it had gained, obviously - of course, I could understand that it was so very tempting to believe they weren't dead, especially if you could see them in your dreams. I could only hope that with time, Mrs. Weasley, whom I had come to love as a mother and who had always been so kind towards me, would improve again, and not end like Neville's parents, patients to St. Mungos for the rest of their lives, probably.  
  
This message was hard on all of us, the other's obviously, since she was their mother, but me also, after all, except for Sirius, she and Mr. Weasley had been the only thing close to family I'd ever had, though I'd never even called them by their first names. There was a lot of grief in that room that afternoon, and I was endlessly glad for Bill's presence at my side.  
  
Later that day, though we were all tired and strung-out, we sat together in the living room, drinking spiced wine and trying to keep our minds off things as far as was possible.  
  
That was when I saw Ginny again for the first time.  
  
It was... a shock, to say the least. She had thinned very much, though she had never been overweight, she had developed a womanly rounded body by the time she turned sixteen - that day, she seemed little more than skin and bones, as she entered the living room, almost staggering.  
  
She did not join us at the table, she just stood there, in the doorway, eyes unblinking, arms wrapped around her emaciated body, regarding us with unbelief and - loathing?, not even acknowledging the twins, who went to her side immediately, or hearing the shocked gasps of Bill, Percy and myself.  
  
"How can you be sitting here like this," she whispered hoarsely, struggling away from George's arm that was trying to comfort her. "How can you sit here like this, as if NOTHING HAD HAPPENED!!!" She screamed these last words, as Fred and George lead her to the sofa, quite against her will, and tried to soothe her with words.  
  
"I hate you, I hate you, I hate all of you!" she shouted, finally struggling free and running out of the room.  
  
Unbearable silence spread at this.  
  
Charlie, who had stood up from his seat, sank back down with a sigh, holding a trembling hand to his temple. "It's been like this since she came here. I tried to talk to her... we all have... even got a psychologist from town... but she won't listen, or let us comfort her. All she wants is for us to leave her alone, and send her back to France, but... I don't think that would bring anything about, otherwise I wouldn't hesitate... especially since she separated from Pierre on the cause that he wouldn't understand a thing, because he had appealed to her to eat something..."  
  
I could feel Bill tense at my side on the narrow sofa. "Perhaps I should..."  
  
Charlie just shook his head. "Don't think you could do anymore than I did. She's locked herself in her room all the time she's been here... refusing food... refusing to even talk to me, or George, or Fred for that matter... guess that if she doesn't come out of there within the next two or three days, we'll have to bring her to a hospital, but... I don't know, I was hoping we could *do* something..." he broke off, hands still shaking, obviously at a loss at what to do.  
  
"It's all so fucking... so bloody fucking hopeless!" Fred cried out at this, while George held him close. I've never seen any of the twins in such a state, but then, I'd never seen them after such events before. And I wasn't feeling much different myself - Ginny had, after the initiate time of being a tag-along to Ron, Hermione and I, become a friend to me, and I hated seeing her in such a state.  
  
"I'll go talk to her," I offered, standing up. Charlie started to protest, but George cut him off.  
  
"Let him... we've all tried, and none of us seems to get through to her... perhaps Harry can, it's worth a try."  
  
So Charlie led me up to Ginny's room, where he left me without a word, but with an encouraging pressure on my shoulder.  
  
Knowing I had to try to do something, but at a total loss about what, I knocked on the door, once, twice, a third time, until finally I heard Ginny's high-pitched voice from the other side.  
  
"Go away, leave me alone, fuck *off*, Charlie."  
  
"Not Charlie, Ginny. I'm Harry. I... please let me in?"  
  
"No! You're not better than the others. You fucking pretend you're sorry about it all, and then you sit there and go on with your life, as if nothing had happened, as if he hadn't been your best friend, and your lover - yeah, I know about that, surprise, surprise. Nice lover you are, at that. They would both still be alive if if weren't for you! If Ron had just stayed at home with Mum, and if Dad had fucking minded his own business, they'd be alive now!"  
  
Guilt struck me at this. Even after all the weeks with Bill telling me I wasn't to blame, Ginny had struck my weak point with these words. If it hadn't been for me, Ron and Mr. Weasley *would* be alive and well.  
  
"I know, Ginny. I'd be dead, and your brother and father would be alive, and if I could swap, I'd do so in a second - but I can't, none of us can. If I took my life, if you starve yourself to death, if we all commit suicide or live our lives as if we were already dead, it won't change a thing. And they wouldn't want us to do that, and you know this as well as I do." I wasn't coming through to her, but I was going to be damned if I didn't at least try.  
  
"What the bloody *fuck* do *you* know about what Ron would have wanted?! It was never about what Ron wanted, was it? You wanted to go to Egypt - so both of you had to go. *You* wanted to fight You-Know-Who, but that was never Ron's destiny, but *you* couldn't bloody go alone, you had to take him along with you, and when *you* were attacked, Dad and Ron *protected* you, you fucking son of a bitch! And now, you act as if it's nothing to do with you, they all act as if it's nothing to do with them, they all talk about going on with their lives, and I fucking well can't, and don't want to, and..."  
  
I heard her break off into sobs behind the locked door, and felt more helpless than I ever had in my life. Was there nothing I could do, nothing I could say to come through to her? But then, why should I succeed where Charlie and the twins, her own brothers, had failed? Except...  
  
"I saw him too, Ginny. I dreamt, and..."  
  
"You fucking liar, don't tell me this, you're lying, you're fucking lying, it was only a dream..."  
  
"... and he told me to get on with my life, and to get over the guilt, and..." I continued despite her panicked screams at the other side of the door. "... and he told me he had gone to see you, too, but that you wouldn't believe it was him you were seeing. Ginny, I had the same dream, and I *saw* him, and even though you won't admit it, you know I'm saying the truth."  
  
Her protests faded and were again replaced by sobs on the other side of the door. I waited, silently, for what seemed like an eternity, until finally, I could hear a key turning in the lock. I waited another minute or two, but she didn't come out, so I slowly pressed down the handle to find the door unlocked.  
  
Ginny stood right before me as I entered the room, not bothering to close the door behind me. She wasn't crying, though her eyes were badly swollen, as she looked at me in amazement? unbelief?  
  
"Do..." her voice faltered, and she cleared her throat clumsily. "Do you... really... believe... that was... Ron?"  
  
I nodded.  
  
"I'm so sorry," she exclaimed, rushing into my arms, tears now rolling down her red cheeks again. "I'm sorry, Harry, I didn't mean what I said. I was just too... I know you really loved him, and he really loved you, and... I just feel like my whole fucking life has been shattered to pieces..."  
  
She sobbed into my shoulder as I tried to comfort her, not entirely sure of how to do this, but knowing I couldn't turn away from the duty now. I lead her to the bed, slowly, where we sat down together, as Ginny poured out her heart to me. I knew of no response to what she was telling me, I guess that's the worst about such situations, really, you never know what to say, what there is to say, but in the end, I suppose holding someone and listening is sometimes better than all the words in the world, a least that was what I had experienced with Bill, and then with Ginny.  
  
After much persuasion, she agreed to come back downstairs with me, where the first thing she did was embrace all of her brothers and drowning them all in apologies.  
  
She even agreed to eat some cream soup which Fred prepared, and though she choked on the first couple of spoonfuls, she soon bolted down four bowls hungrily.  
  
I myself returned to my place next to Bill, who whispered a hoarse 'thank you' into my ear, while giving me a short, but firm hug. 


	10. Chapter 10: Bill

THAT SUMMER, Chapter 10  
By Reija Linn  
  
Bill  
  
It was good, seeing my brothers and sister again, especially after Ginny had recovered from her post-traumatic state. We talked until late in the evening, drank spiced Rumanian red wine, and tried to remember the good times we'd had with Dad and Ron - and that wasn't hard, throughout the years, though there had been plenty of tragedy and problems, we had always shared much happiness between us. I also met Charlie's friends again, whom I remembered from Hogwarts - Charlie had been only one year behind me, after all.  
  
Sunday morning, we had a fabulous breakfast, prepared by Fred and George - who would have ever thought those two would learn to cook! As it turned out, one of Charlie's friends -who's father was actually a chef - had showed them, and though I did not want to imagine what havoc those two could cause to a kitchen, they had obviously grown quite good at it.  
  
Parting was not as hard as we had thought, though I was worried for Percy, who was returning to England, although he assured me there was no safer place than the ministry, save perhaps for Hogwart's, and he promised to write as often as he could manage to get letters through to me.Ginny was looking remarkably better, even though she was in a real bad shape of health, and she promised to take care of herself while I was gone, while Harry and I assured her that we would pass by when the day came on which we would return to England.  
  
So, when Sunday afternoon came, we started our journey back to Egypt. I took care to take many breaks on the way, even though Harry never complained, I remembered well how straining Apparition could be if you weren't used to it.  
  
Back home, we both weren't up to much more than having a light supper and falling into our shared bed exhaustedly, though once we lay there, sleep would not quite claim me, or Harry, to judge from his shallow breathing.  
  
"Hey - you still awake?" I whispered, not wanting to wake him in case I had been mistaken.  
  
"Yeah - miracle, since I feel real tired after that journey."  
  
"I have another day off work, tomorrow, boss told me there's not much to do for me anyway - I'm trying to find my old teacher, the one who gave me Akasha's writings, once, to find out more about that... dream... you had. Last I heard, he was at the Serpent Goddesses' temple... I'm not sure if he's still alive, but if he is, he'll know something about such things. He's a priest, apart from being a wizard, and knows much about spirits and ghosts and so, though most people used to claim he was crazy... would you come with me, and tell him about the dreams you've had yourself?""Sure," Harry replied, sounding more than a little drowsy now, and snuggled closer to me. Darn my hormones, I actually enjoyed the feeling of a warm, male body against mine, even though I knew I should not.  
  
Now, I had never been very prudent about my affairs, I'd known I was gay from early age on, and never really had a problem with it, and I'd had my share of lovers - but Harry was as a brother to me, and feeling anything but friendship in his embrace had to be extremely wrong...  
  
Willing myself to fall asleep, I couldn't quite shake off the feeling of being attracted to this boy I had come to love as a sibling, though I pledged to myself I would not, under any circumstances, let my hormones get the better of me.  
  
The next day, after sleeping out our travel weariness and starting the day slowly, we left for the Renenutet's and Wadjet's temple, that was situated far in the desert. Luckily, I had some floo powder left, thus not having to subject Harry to another Apparition so soon after our return from Rumania. It hadn't been enough for the multiple travels on our way to Rumania - crossing borders that way was not only illegal, it was not possible, since the borders were proofed against this kind of magic - but it should be enough for the distance to the temple and back.  
  
I could see Harry's wide eyed wonder at the sight of the temple. Large it was, carved entirely out of red sand stone, and covered with hieroglyphs, but the most amazing thing was the large cobra that seemed to guard the entrance to it, and that looked remarkably alive, though it was carved from stone. This was only one of the many old sacred places that were hidden from Muggle eyes, but it was one of the most amazing, I agreed, though I had seen it once before. And a little terrifying, for it's size, and of course for it's whole meaning, when regarded from someone not accustomed to ancient Egypt religion. Snakes were, in England, looked upon as foul creatures, at least since Voldemort had started his first reign, and he was known to be in liaison with snakes and serpents, while her in Egypt, they were looked upon as holy creatures, as the very children of Mother Earth, or the greatest and oldest of serpents as actual Gods."Renenutet, who is also known as Renenet, Ernutet, and Termuthis, is the ancient Egyptian Goddess of Snakes. She is known also as a protector of the dead, as Goddess of Fertility, Destiny and Fortune, as well as of Nourishment. Wadjet, who has many other names, too, is the Serpent Goddess of Childbirth, Children, and protector of the Pharaoh - that's why there's a snake protruding from the Pharaoh's crown. Of course, the Egyptian Muggles don't believe in her anymore, but most of the wizarding folk still worship the old Gods at least for form's sake, and to show respect to the Pharaoh."A woman in plain white robes opened the gates of the temple, though we had not made notice of our presence in any way - but then, a temple as this was sure to be guarded by many protection and spotting spells.  
  
"What do you seek of these ancient halls, males?" She was speaking ancient Egyptian, but I had put a translation spell on both of us beforehand.I fell down on both knees, as was custom before a priestess, and signaled Harry to do the same. "We seek but wisdom and advice. Does master Udschat still dwell in these halls?""The high-priest does dwell here. What is thy business with him?"  
  
"He was my teacher, and I come to seek advice. My friend is the pupil of Azhame, guardian to the Divine One.""Thee and thy companion shall be permitted to enter. Master Udschat will learn of thy presence. Until then, prove thy worthiness by entering the halls of the Serpent Goddess unafraid."  
  
Harry and I progressed through the gates of the temple, through a great hallway, and into a large room. In the front, where we were led, there was an altar, where a lower priestess or novice was polishing golden ornaments that had to be very valuable just by the look of them. The altar was carved of yellow sandstone, but disconcerting brown stains had dyed the stone - probably blood. They never sacrificed humans, of course, but in old times, many animals had been offered to the Gods They didn't do that nowadays, though traditionalists claimed it was the only way of true worship.  
  
"Wait here;" the priestess who had led us in told us, then she disappeared through another door at the other end of the room. Only then did I notice the large serpent that was coiled around the altar, definitely too close for my liking. Even living in Egypt hadn't taken the natural uneasiness many people felt towards snakes of me, and this one was... huge.  
  
Harry, on the other hand, seemed quite unafraid, and I gasped in shock when the serpent uncoiled from the altar and slithered towards the two of us - or rather, towards Harry. The novice - I recognised her as this by her shaven head - did not even acknowledge our presence, but continued with her work imperturbably.  
  
The snake emitted a low hiss, and to my surprise, Harry responded to her (or him) in snake-tongue. I remembered then that Harry was a parcel-mouth, Ron had once told me about that, but I had forgotten since then. I could, of course, not understand a word of what they were saying - the translation spell worked only on human languages - but at least Harry wasn't showing any signs of being afraid of the large serpent.  
  
"I see you have made friends with our Mother Serpent, boy," the priestess who had led us in remarked from the doorway in which she had suddenly reappeared. Was I mistaken, or did she sound awed? "It is a rare treat of the Gods to grant a human knowledge of this tongue - have you ever been trained in serpent-lore, boy?"  
  
Harry shook his head.  
  
"A pity, if you ask me. It is such a rare ability, and even rarer in males. The high-priest is the only one I know of, though I have heard there is another one in your home country, who uses this gift ill. Oh well. Master Udschat has agreed to see you. Please follow me."  
  
We went after her through one long hallway after the other - the temple hadn't seemed quite this large from the outside, enormous though it was - until finally we arrived at my old teacher's room. I noticed the large serpent had followed us, though I hadn't seen her, and though I marveled how such large a creature could keep up with the speed with which the priestess had led us through the temple.  
  
Udschat had hardly changed since I'd been trained by him, though then he was not high-priest but one of many priests, which was why he had taught me - cursing, and curse-breaking, were always taught by local priests in Egypt, who held the position of teachers throughout the country. There were no magical schools in Egypt, rather, when the time arrived for a youngster to be taught, he or she was sent to one of the temples for training, which was one of the reasons the ancient religion was still practised here. Udschat was clad in crimson red robes, the privilege of the high-priest and priestess, the long, silver hair and beard falling loosely.  
  
"Ah," the old wizard greeted us. "Bill, my old student. How good to see you again. And this is your Chosen, yes?"  
  
We both must have looked quite dumbfounded at that, for the old wizard broke into hearty laughter. "Ah, time will tell. But I trust you have not undertaken this journey just to greet your old teacher. What troubles your heart? Is it the situation in your country? I'm afraid I can say little to that, except for that which has been prophesied."  
  
"That would be interesting to hear, though it is not why we have come." I progressed to tell him of the dream Harry had had, and of what I knew about Mum and Ginny, who had seemingly had similar dreams, and then Harry recounted his own dream himself. Udschat listened silently throughout this, unmoving except for one hand that was petting the Mother Serpent's head, who had coiled together next to him.  
  
When Harry had finished, he turned towards both of us. "All I can tell you is what you yourself must know, already, in your hearts. Before the spirits of the dead pass into whatever realms they wander after death, they look upon those they leave behind, and take their parting. Mostly, they do this silently, but if they feel they have a last duty to fulfill with that person, or are unwilling to go for some reason, they may show themselves in dreams or visions. They are free to leave only when no guilt holds them back. Ghost are the spirits of the dead who are altogether unwilling to leave, who have committed a crime they must yet set right, or who have not yet fulfilled their destiny. Spirits that appear in dreams are almost prepared to take their leave, but feel they have one last duty to take care of.  
  
"Of course, while ghosts can move freely around and use some of their senses still - they can hear, they can talk, they can see, though they cannot smell or taste, and feel only to a degree, spirits are bound to the world beyond already, and can move only in the subconscious thoughts of the people left behind.  
  
"As to the prophesies... the prophesies tell of a world of darkness, of a soul blacker than coil, that will reign the north. That is your Dark Wizard Voldemort, I presume. The serpents have told us of the one that can speak with them, yet they fear him - that is seldom, normally, they are attached to the humans that speak their tongue. As this one seems to you, boy," he said to Harry. "Yes, you have been prophesied to fight the dark, to fulfill your destiny. Unfortunately, destiny can fulfill itself in many ways, and so I cannot tell you if you will survive - not that I would if I knew, anyway. It is wrong to know of ones own death, unless it is imminent, or one has experienced a vision.  
  
"I am sorry I cannot help you more, but your future is not for me to tell. All I can tell you is this - you are on the right path. Be true to your heart, always."  
  
He smiled at both of us then.  
  
"I trust the writings I have once given you, Bill, are in good hands now?" I wondered if he had seen the future all along, and had given me the volume for the single purpose that I might pass it over to Harry. "Boy, there is great wisdom in them. The Queen Akasha herself was a servant of Isis, who is akin to the Serpents... but never forget she was also a creature of the dark, a vampire. Good and evil were balanced in her, as it must be in everyone of us. No one is without evil, but none should be without good."  
  
This was all he would tell us, I could tell by the way he closed his eyes in a dismissing gesture, and as if by telepathy, the priestess from earlier suddenly appeared in the door again.  
  
"Oh, boy," Udschat called after us, or rather, after Harry, before we passed the doorway. "When your destiny is fulfilled, and you should still be alive, seek me out at this temple. The gift of Serpent-tongue is rare, and you could achieve great things with it... or you could leave it at that. Whatever. But seek me out anyway, if your time allows. And Bill... take care of your Chosen..."  
  
After this, and without allowing me further questions, the priestess led us back out of the temple, all the way through the halls and out towards the open, and the open fire that was still burning in front of the temple.  
  
"You may travel through this."  
  
With these words, she was gone, and seconds later, so were we, to find ourselves back in my own room.  
  
We hadn't learned too much, though I guessed we had to be content with what Udschat had told us - he had always been a man of mystery, and not likely to speak without riddles.  
  
By the time we had come back home, it was almost time for Harry to depart for his lessons, so all we had was a light meal.  
  
"Was Akasha really a vampire?" Harry wondered. "You can't tell from her writings."  
  
"Well, what would you tell it from? She certainly knew enough curses and counter-curses to be a creature of the dark. And after all, you know a werewolf - would you say he's that much different than most people? Yet werewolves are betitled creatures of the dark. As legends go, Akasha was a queen, but through a curse was turned into a vampire. It is unknown whether she is still alive - well, as alive a vampires can be. If yes, she would be amazingly old, but no report of her death has ever been filed. And vampire hunters are the last to not boast with their conquests."  
  
"Hm. I suppose you're right. Wow. So I'm actually learning from a vampire's writings? Guess most people wouldn't be too pleased with that."  
  
"Not in England, I agree. But in Egypt, Akasha was by far too respected as a Queen in Ancient Times to be shunned as a vampire. Legend tells of hundreds of volunteers who offered their own blood and life to her - of course, no one would do that now, but her writings still are one of the milestones in cursing and curse-breaking."  
  
"And what," Harry asked me between two bites, "what did Udschat mean by your 'chosen', Bill?"  
  
"I honestly have no idea." Of course, I knew what my old teacher had been insinuating, but this I had already deleted from my list of possible things to happen.  
  
Though it was strange, indeed, that both Shezra from the pub, who was known as a seer, and my old teacher had used the same name.  
  
Still, this possibility was by far too complicated to ever work. There was the age difference, there was the fact that Harry was still mourning for Ron, the fact that we would probably see each other only scarcely once the battle was over, if indeed we both survived it - which was indeed questionable -  
  
And finally, it wasn't that kind of love I was feeling, right? Brotherly love, friendship, and, I grudgingly had to admit, perhaps even sexual attraction... but nothing that would suggest...  
  
When Harry left for his lessons, he left me behind with far too much to think about.  
  
But then... Udschat had probably just confused me with his talk of destiny and then with that one phrase... it could be pure coincidence that he and Shezra had used the same term, or maybe, it was a commonly used word if one suggested two men to be lovers... and though Harry and I weren't, it wasn't too hard for any outsider to come to that conclusion - I had never been shy about admitting I was gay, and Harry was a handsome young man...  
  
No, it had to be by pure chance, and nothing to do with that kind of feeling on my side. And I certainly wouldn't pester Harry with this kind of weird thoughts I was having. 


	11. Chapter 11: Harry

THAT SUMMER, Chapter 11  
By Reija Linn  
  
Harry  
  
My lessons were progressing well. I could now speak all three of the Unforgivable Curses, though I prayed to all Gods there might be that I would never have to use them on a human being. Not even a Death Eater. Not even Peter Pettigrew.  
  
Voldemort himself... well, he wasn't really a human being, in my regard.  
  
I had also mastered several difficult curses and counter-curses from Akasha's writings, and went through all of them with Azhame that evening - I could tell, behind his usual crankiness, he was proud of my progress, and not as concerned about leading me in front of the Pharaoh as he claimed to be. Though it was, after a time, getting annoying to master a powerful and trying spell just to be rebuffed about the 'way I held my wand', or 'that terrible expression on my face' - but then, I could bear that, and I knew then already that I would miss Azhame when my lessons were to come to an end - and that end was creeping closer and closer, I had planned, after that letter from Dumbledore, to return to England the end of August, which left me with only three more weeks to go.  
  
I was also feeling uneasy about this for other reasons than the natural nervousness I felt when imagining opposing Voldemort - though I knew of the danger, and by no way dismissed it, I had, after all, faced him before. And for some reason, it seemed to be my destiny to fight him.  
  
But what about Bill? Would he come with me, as he had said? And did I want him to risk his own life, too? Could I bare to loose him, as I had lost Ron?  
  
This I was pondering on as I made my way back to Bill's apartment. Bill had come to mean so much to me... more than... more than anyone who was still alive, at least in a certain way - the love I felt for Sirius, for example, was quite different - he was as a father to me. But Bill...  
  
These thoughts had been with me for so long, yet I had never realized... I had never *wanted* to go into what they meant. Had felt comfort at the thought that we were friends, close friends, but just that. And it had been not even two months since Ron had... had died. I could not be healing that fast? I didn't want to heal that fast!  
  
Why was it then that I no longer saw the pain-stricken face of the moment he had died when I thought of him, but that of the smiling Ron of my dreams?  
  
And why was it I could not bear the thought of living without Bill again, ever?  
  
Why was it so natural to share a bed with Bill, though there were other options, though I was no longer tormented by nightmares?  
  
How could he be so fascinating to me?  
  
A light shower of rain had started to fall as I walked the dark streets of the wizard part of town, that was lit only by flame torches on every wall, but I had not felt rain on my skin in all the time I had been here in Egypt, it felt comforting, somehow, perhaps only because it was so rare, and because of the knowledge that people here cherished it so much...  
  
I decided against Apparition, and walked on, undisturbed, pondering all this, as I passed a group of street kids cuddling together in a dark niche. Most of them shied away from me, as I would from any stranger that late at night, especially since this was a wizard neighbourhood, and most people *would* Apparate at this time. One of them, who did not shy, but looked at me with the large, dark eyes of a child that has seen much pain and that has aged beyond it's years, I recognised as the girl who had once brought me a message from Azhame.  
  
I gave her some of the copper coins that were local currency, and she thanked me with a small bow. I had learned by now that the street children were part of Shezra's group of spies, and would often get payment from her in form of food or clothing, and shelter when it was very cold, but still, my heart felt uneasiness by the sight of these kids out here in the night. That girl, who could not be more than eleven, was one of the oldest, except for another girl who had stayed in the niche, tall and very thin, who was holding a small infant in her arms. Her own? She was, perhaps, fourteen.  
  
Gods, when I had been that age, I'd had a relatively sheltered life at Hogwarts, with enough to eat, a warm place to sleep, and looking back, so much luxury... even during my stay with the Dursleys, I'd at least had some food and a bed, clothes, though they were cut together from old rag's or three sizes too large...  
  
The girl considered me for a moment, that was when I noticed I had not moved a step since giving the coins to her.  
  
"Master 'Arry most kind," she finally smiled, and bowed shortly again. Could one still smile while living through so much pain?  
  
"Why do you have to live like this?" I noticed only then that I had spoken aloud. The girl merely grinned some more.  
  
"Oh, we not have to, sir. We choose."  
  
One could actually *choose* such a life? "Why?"  
  
"Oh, some have no parent, like I. We not wants to live at orphanage - they steals your shoes there, while you sleep. Some like Ezra - she with baby. It from her own father, and she choose not live there anymore. And it not very bad. Shezra take good care of us. We take good care of us, too. Most important - not be alone. Never alone. We never alone."  
  
I nodded, dumbly. This attitude - this life, this fire, in one that lead such an existence...  
  
"Be sure never be alone, Master 'Arry. Alone is more bad than everything else."  
  
With that, she left me to join the other kids again, and as I walked on, I noticed she shared the coins I had given her with everyone, giving the girl with the baby - Ezra - some extra.  
  
Never alone...  
  
Would I be alone again when all this was over and I lived?  
  
I'd have Sirius, my old friends from school... but would Bill leave me to return to Egypt, while I remained in England?  
  
Wasn't that how it was supposed to be?  
  
Why, then, was I feeling so uneasy about it? Why, then, did I wish for something that was simply impossible?  
  
When I finally arrived at our flat - and when had it become *our* flat anyway, this was *Bill's* flat! - I was soaked, and it was late. Way past midnight, when I usually returned. I unlocked the door quietly, not wanting to wake Bill in case he was already asleep - which he should have been, he had to get up early for work the next day.  
  
Of course, he was not. Sometimes, when I returned from my lessons, he was already in bed, reading, or just lying there, but he had always been awake.  
  
And so he was that day.  
  
"You're late, today," he said, smiling, though there were dark circles beneath his eyes. Had he been worrying about me?  
  
"Yeah. I had some things to think about - about the lessons, things like that. I got carried away, and walked by foot. I'm sorry. I hope you... you didn't worry?"  
  
"No." He sat up in bed, bare-chested as he always slept. "Well. Yes," he admitted, still smiling. "Little longer, and I would have went to search for you. Sorry."  
  
This confused me. "Sorry? What for? I'm the one who has to apologise..."  
  
"Just don't want to give you the feeling you're watched, or anything. After all, you're a grown-up and all. And I'm not... not usually the controlling type. It's just..."  
  
Of course. After everything that had happened, of course he would be concerned if I stayed out that long, with everything closed, and without notice. I could have hit myself hard, then, and I guess I actually blushed.  
  
"... makes me feel like a jealous wife." He was grinning, though I couldn't help but think that it looked a little strained... and though it was but a joke, it hit close to home.  
  
"Ba. I'm all wet. Dripping on your carpet." Bill shrugged, which let a strand of unbound red hair fall loosely down his shoulder - I quickly started disrobing before he could catch me staring.  
  
Gosh, we were *friends*. And this was Bill, Ron's older brother, for heaven's sake. Why then, did he seem so beautiful and sexy to me? And why now, of all times - I had seen him naked plenty of times before...  
  
Long, red hair, falling loosely over broad shoulders... a smooth chest, a slender waist, bronzed by the Egyptian sun... beautiful hazel eyes, sparkling at me with amusement...  
  
... Never alone...  
  
"Hey Harry."  
  
A voice, so soft, tender, caring...  
  
"Everything all right with you?"  
  
"Yeah." Damn, I was blushing again!  
  
I was infinitely gratefull when I could finally turn off the light, thus fleeing his image, this image that had brought upon such foreign thoughts in me, such forbidden thoughts...  
  
But the image would not leave me, and when I scooped down between the covers and into Bill's arms, I could not but notice how wonderfully warm his body felt against my own, clammy skin, how soft and smooth it was...  
  
... How his hair smelled, of sand and wind and fire and the woods in England after a shower of rain...  
  
... How right his hand felt on my bare back, holding me in an embrace that was soft and strong at the same time...  
  
... How his breath tickled my cheek, warm as Autumn wind...  
  
... How he felt like home...  
  
'... Never alone...'  
  
"Did you just say something, Harry?" Whispered, in this soft, sexy voice...  
  
"No. Night, Bill."  
  
"Night, Harry..."  
  
... I think... 


	12. Chapter 12: Bill

THAT SUMMER, Chapter 12  
By Reija Linn  
  
Bill  
  
'... I think I am falling in love...'  
  
I remembered Tom, that night, my first boyfriend, back at Hogwarts, and how he had said that one day. I did not understand then, never really did, until that day. Before that, I believed you either were in love, or not, how could you 'think' you were, perhaps, maybe?  
  
'... falling in love... what an utterly strange phrase... but so fitting... for falling in love *is* like falling, falling down an abyss, knowing you will smash down on the ground, so helpless, unless the other catches you...'  
  
Was it love to feel another as yourself, to hold someone and feel that though you live in two bodies, you could merge into one being? Was it love to give all of yourself, unconditionally, not expecting anything returned? Was it love to feel like this for someone though you know you may never act upon it?  
  
'... Love is the strangest thing. It does not choose by who you are, or what you are, or by how wrong you and everyone thinks it is. It just is. And that's the wonder of it all...'  
  
Was it love then, that I was feeling for Harry? I knew I desired him, and cherished him as a brother and friend, but did I love him? And if I did, what cruel game had Cupid decided to play on me?  
  
'Cupid's arrows are swift and sharp, they burn as they pierce your heart, and even if you pull them out, they leave their sweet poison in your veins... yes, his arrows are sharp, but Cupid himself must be blind, or a very sadistic little prat...'  
  
I had never understood this, either. Of course, I'd fallen in and out of love a couple of times in my life, I'd had my share of lovers, and some of them I'd even thought I'd loved... but with none of them had I felt this pain, and anguish, with none of them had I felt this mixture of right and wrong.  
  
What was right and wrong, anyway?  
  
Harry's arms around me, his sweet breath on my chest, the tiny sounds he made when he was sleeping, the sound of breathing next to me in the dark, that was right.  
  
Our talks, our friendly touches, his fingers stroking my back absent-mindedly while falling asleep, that was right.  
  
Yet, it had to be wrong, though I saw less and less reason why it should be so. I just knew, somehow, without reason.  
  
There were a hundred reasons against, why, then, could my mind not phrase a single one, when those emerald eyes looked upon me?  
  
Why did I shiver whenever he spoke to me while we were like this, at night, so close?  
  
Why was the feeling of his cool hand stroking my back so softly the most erotic touch I had ever felt, despite all my experiences with sex?  
  
And why, in all heaven's sake, did I shift closer yet, though I was aroused, while my mind screamed 'Back off, idiot!'?  
  
But the stroking continued, and though up to this day I know not how it happened, these gentle touches spread out, the circles getting wider. Feathery touches on my back, my shoulders, my arms... and I did nothing to stop them... encouraged them... even returned them...  
  
Was Harry awake? Another question I never got answered, though I was pretty sure he was dosing at the beginning, at least...  
  
His skin, so soft beneath my touch, though despite his wiry frame I felt well-developed muscles beneath my fingertips. A result of his Quidditch, probably.  
  
So soft... softer yet, his lips on mine... I can't remember who started the gentle kiss... though I think it was I... or perhaps both of us, at the same time? I do remember that he tasted sweet as strawberries, though they did not grow anywhere in Egypt, like apple-pie and ginger ale, like... like everything that reminded me of home.  
  
I do remember the feeling of his fingertips, caressing my neck, the outline of my ear, brushing my cheek, tracing my lips that had kissed him, tasted him, moments before, remember how his fingers were trembling, and I knew then he was as wide awake as I was, as fascinated and scared of this new development as I...  
  
My thoughts were twirling while my mind was still screaming at me to stop, but it was too late to stop, I could not, at least not with his touch on my skin, one hand behind my neck, drawing me closer to continue our kiss, the other, trembling, on my chest, cool, sending bolts of electricity throughout my body...  
  
His sharp intake of breath as I deepened the kiss, gently parting his lips with my tongue, barely touching the tip of his at first...  
  
I did not speak for fear of breaking this magical moment, but our touches grew firmer, and we moved closer, yet, until it felt as if we were merged into one single being, a being that was not Harry and not Bill, but both at the same time, as his leg moved in between mine, our bodies pressed against each other, so hot I was afraid of burning...  
  
Desire, as I had never felt it before in my life, burning, passionate, afraid, scared, all at the same time, not the rushing feel of hormone-induced contact, nor the easy and fun-orientated feel of the romances I had had up to then with my lovers.  
  
His weight on mine as he moved on top of me, his thigh pressing into my hardness, shifting against me as hungry lips searched mine... his own erection, printing into my hip... the low sigh he emitted as I moved upwards to meet him...  
  
Was this love, not to know whether the other was thinking of you or someone else, and still continuing, not because of hormones, but because you felt defeated by this touch? Because you simply could not stop?  
  
His eyes were closed, I noticed despite the dark, yet the whispered words against my ear were unmistakably "Oh, Bill..."  
  
Then his shoulders tensed, and I felt a hot wetness on my neck... tears?  
  
Of course. Only then I remembered, and wondered how I could have ever forgotten. Ron. I could only hope this would not drive us apart again, after we had gone through that once.  
  
"I'm sorry," he whispered, collapsing against me, his arms around my neck, hot tears on my shoulder. "I... I can't..."  
  
"Shh. It's alright, Harry. I understand. It doesn't change a thing, okay?"  
  
I pulled him close, though my touches were no longer caressing but comforting.  
  
"Let's just forget it ever happened, okay?"  
  
But forget, I could not, and I knew it that night. 


	13. Chapter 13: Harry

THAT SUMMER, Chapter 13  
By Reija Linn  
  
Harry  
  
I know Bill thought it was the thought of Ron that had stopped me from going any further that night, and it was only very long after that I told him the truth.  
  
Actually, though a little earlier I *would* have been unable to do this with Bill because of the thought of Ron, I thought I could feel him smiling upon us from somewhere far beyond this world.  
  
No, the reason I stopped was not Ron, or feelings of guilt, but my fear of the future that I had felt so eminently earlier that night. For I knew, that once I gave in to this feeling, once I felt his touch, I could never go back to loneliness again...  
  
Yet I knew it would be so. I could not imagine a future for Bill and me, that night, and could not bear the thought of loosing him again once we'd been together.  
  
I knew then it was love I was feeling, not the same kind of love I had felt for Ron - that had been just as deep, but it had been different, had had more of the easiness of two friends with a long past who discovered somewhere along the way that they meant more to each other, the kind of love that develops during a long, long time, instead of this sudden, burning feeling I had with Bill.  
  
For one insane moment I had imagined it might actually have a future, that he felt the same for me as I felt for him...  
  
'Let's just forget it ever happened, okay?'  
  
But no, it would never work. I could not blame Bill, after all, I had initiated what had happened that night, though it was he who had drawn me closer, who had kissed me first. I also knew I could never let this happen again, or it would kill me to ever be without his touch thereafter. For his touch was like heroin, and I knew that once I had gotten a full dose, I would be addicted to it for all my life, and would never find happiness elsewhere.  
  
So I pledged to never let it happen again. And true to my word, I did not, throughout my time in Egypt, though each night when I lay in his arms, I could feel the desire well up in me like fire, like a demon demanding to be let out, like a prisoner rattling against the bars of his cell, screaming for freedom...  
  
'Never alone,' that girl from the streets had told me, but if friendship and passion was all I could have from Bill, I would rather choose a long-term friendship, even across such a large distance, than a short submission to passion followed by silence, as it would probably be. For that was the flow of affairs, of course you promised to write, and meet each other, but eventually, when the flames of passion faded, the letters would become scarce, and the visits set further and further off, until it petered out.  
  
And I would not let that happen to Bill and me.  
  
So I kept my silence about my reasons, let him believe I was still mourning Ron, as I should have been, and acted as if the whole thing had never happened. Eventually, I could almost believe it never had, for Bill showed no sign of contemplating that night, and never tried to initiate anything again.  
  
Neither did it come between us, though, which I had feared that night. Bill was to me as always - friendly, comforting, warm, funny, thoughtfull and considerate, and never shied away from my friendly embrace at night, or avoided me in any way. For this, too, I was gratefull.  
  
And though sometimes, late at night, the thought nagged at me whether perhaps Bill *was* feeling more than friendship, I never again dared to approach him in any way, be it with words or physically, for fear of rejection. It reminded me of something Ginny, of all people, had once told me about her early infatuation with me.  
  
'Sometimes, when you are sure there is no possibility of a real relationship with someone you love, it is easier to love from afar, never daring to find out for sure, but never being rejected. At least that way, the one you love will still be with you in your dreams. Sometimes it is easier not to face reality, though in the back of your mind, you know it exists.'  
  
And true to this, though I knew there would be no future for us, in my dreams there was a place beside all anguish and pain, where Bill and I were together. Not to be, sure, but a pleasant dream, nonetheless, especially as real life kicked in more and more and my return to England was almost imminent.  
  
Two weeks had passed since that night when Azhame informed me that he had arranged for my meeting with the Pharaoh in two days, and for once since then, I had other things on my mind than Bill, who went through the same exercises with me again and again and again, though I had long perfected most of them as far as ever I would. He even took the time for a practise on broomsticks, which is a hundred times more trying since you have to concentrate on spell-casting and flying at the same time, though he teased me for being a perfectionist. We both knew, of course, that it was serious business - Voldemort was not one to be fooled by simple tricks - but humour was the only way of going through all of this without turning insane.  
  
Finally, the day arrived when I was to meet the wizarding Egypt's leader. Azhame was worse than ever, leaving no spot untouched from his critical eye, from a crease in my robes to a spot on my shoes, he critisised almost everything about me - not that that last point would have mattered, for I was asked to leave my shoes at the entrance to the palace of the Pharaoh, since sacred ground was only to be tread on with bare feet (which, as Azhame noted irritably, had by far too long toe nails). I hardly expected the Pharaoh to examine my toe nails, but wisely said nothing, I was feeling too nervous myself, anyway.  
  
The Pharaoh himself was an awe-inducing sight. His robes were of black silk, lined with deepest ocean blue and ornamented with gold and jewles, his crown - not round, like the European ones, but more like a cap, strangely reminding me of the head ware of bishops, had a snake of gold protruding from it, that cast a shadow upon the face that looked old and young at the same time - hardly any wrinkles, but with the cool serenity of the older and wiser wizards, though he probably was not much older than Bill. His skin was dark, and like bronze, and his eyes were framed with black coil. He had a very superior air around him, even without all the gold and jewels and silk, that alone would have made me fall to me knees, even if Azhame hadn't told me to do so at least a dozen times during the hour before.  
  
"Divine One," my old teacher spoke - he had also fallen to his knees beside me - "this is my pupil you wished to meet... Harry Potter, from England, who is destined to fight the Dark Lord Voldemort, whom the serpents have spoken of.  
  
"Harry Potter. I have heard much about you, boy. They say at the temple you are gifted with the serpent-tongue?"  
  
"Yes, my lord," I answered, as Azhame had instructed me to.  
  
"Indeed, the Gods have gifted me, their kin, with this, too, as they have every Pharaoh for the last five thousand years. I would like to have a demonstration of this gift, young one."  
  
The Pharaoh did not ask, but I had been prepared for this, too. It was a long tradition that a Pharaoh was regarded as one of the Gods himself, and a God did not ask, he ordered - I could accept that, for respect's sake.  
  
Only as the music stopped did I notice there was a young girl, clothed in slightly translucent sky-blue robes in which gold and jewles were embedded, too, in one corner of the room, sitting before a harp, from which the music had come - the Pharaoh's wife, I knew, from what Azhame had told me. At a sign of the Pharaoh, she moved towards me, and pulled from the insides of her robes a large snake that had coiled around her neck and shoulders.  
  
"This is Sesheta, our Mother of Snakes, who is regarded as the bearer of the Goddess Sesheta."  
  
Sesheta, I knew, was the Egyption Goddess of esoteric knowledge and foresight.  
  
"Sesheta, is this the boy you have spoken to be the nemesis of the Dark Lord Voldemort?"  
  
"Yes," the snake spoke, "you are indeed the boy. Though you will not defeat the fiend alone, he who pretends to be akin to our kind but who uses us as he would any human or animal or even God. Nagini, who is of our kind but who has fallen to his power, had told me about him, for I hold the thoughts of all of our kind. With this, I was blessed and cursed by my mother Sesheta, She-Who-Knows-All. Tell me, human, have you found you're Chosen, who will join you in your battle to come?"  
  
"Yes," I answered, knowing I was speaking parcel-tongue without hearing it myself, and with a surety that surprised me myself. "Though I don't know what the term means."  
  
If snakes could laugh - and I was sure they couldn't, mind you! - I could have sworn this one did, then. "Your Chosen, young human, is the One the Gods have decreed for you, the one without whom you are but one half of a whole. If you meet your Chosen, you know, eventually. And as every being on this Earth from which we have all risen must fulfill their destiny, it can never be accomplished without the One who resembles this other half. That is why so many spirits return to this earth after they have died, in a new body - for they have never found their Chosen. If you have, consider yourself lucky, little one."  
  
It felt strange, this all being told to me by a snake, but then, who was I to judge Egyptian custom?  
  
The rest of this meeting passed swiftly. I demonstrated some of the spells I had learned from Azhame - taking care to use only those that would not destroy anything inside the room - and upon the Pharaoh's question, recounted the story of my life.  
  
When The Pharaoh finally dismissed me, Azhame offered to bring me to the entrance of the palace again. I knew I would not meet my old teacher again, since our lessons were now finished, and felt sorry for this, in a strange way. I would miss his bickering, I realized.  
  
It was then that he spoke the first - and last - words of praise I ever heard from him.  
  
"I am proud of you, boy. You have learned well, and I hope you will be able to fulfill your destiny with what I have taught you."  
  
With these words he left me there, still a little shocked at these kinds words.  
  
The shock had hardly worn off when I arrived back at Bill's place. 


	14. Chapter 14: Bill

THAT SUMMER, Chapter 14  
By Reija Linn  
  
Bill  
  
After Harry's lessons with Azhame had finished, we had one more week left together in Egypt before we had to return to England. I'd arranged with my boss that I got leave for an indefinite amount of time, promising to return to work as soon as my business in England was finished. My boss, though not exactly overjoyed, gave me this leave since he had to report to the English company heads. And those were, by the State of War in England, obliged to give free any employee who had reached a certain level of mastery of Defence Against the Dark Arts if he were to fight against the dark. As I was.  
  
I also had one extra free week for preparations, which I could spend with Harry, now that we both had no work to think about. Luckily, I'd saved some money during my years of working for Gringott's, so this did not provide a problem.  
  
As it was, I tried to make Harry's last week in Egypt an enjoyable one, and we kept ourselves well-occupied, not the least to keep our minds off that which was to come. None of us knew if we would come out of our battle in England alive, and I for one could not bear to ponder on the thought of loosing Harry.  
  
Also, there were the thoughts of what would happen thereafter. I would, of course, return back to Egypt, where I had a flat and a job - a life.  
  
Harry, on the other hand, would remain in England, where his place was with his friend and his godfather, where the future awaited him, perhaps in the place of a Quidditch player for England - Charlie had told me he was a fantastic Quidditch player, professional material, and I could imagine from the way I had seen him fly.  
  
Or perhaps as an auror, as his and Ron's friend from school - even if the Dark Lord *was* defeated, there was still enough Dark magic around, and there would always be dark wizards, had always been throughout the ages.  
  
What future would there be for him here in Egypt - with me?  
  
For a moment, during that first night we had touched as lovers, I had imagined my feelings returned. But since then, Harry had given me no indication of this, and I had to accept the fact that it was not meant to be between us.  
  
During our last week together in Egypt, we went to Shezra's pub a couple of times, as much for a few glasses of cider (which she served for the many people from England who worked here) as for some more information about the situation in England.  
  
We also went to the local nightclub one evening, which I hadn't visited in ages.  
  
We had the luck of going there on a Saturday evening, when they usually had a live band playing. That night, it was "Temple of Cheron", a gothic rock band who's lead singer Carla I'd met a couple of times - a girl about my age, who wore leather clothes and a studded belt, long, black hair and dark, Egyptian eyes - quite beautiful, actually, if you were inclined towards women.  
  
The nightclub itself was much like any wizard nightclub or disco in England I'd ever went to, though the walls were painted with sinister scenes from old Egypt, and the people were as they were everywhere in clubs around the world - people who wanted to have some fun on their weekend, meet new people, perhaps find a date, or just take out the week's stress by dancing to some good old rock music.  
  
During one of the breaks, Carla came up to me and asked me to introduce my 'gorgeous friend', which I did.  
  
"Harry Potter?" she seemed most delighted at this. "Oh, I've heard of you, of course, who hasn't? You're quite famous, even outside of England. And my father was from England, came here to work and met my mother, who's Egyptian, so I always keep informed about everything that's going on over there. Pity about the current state - someone should stand up to that bunch of lunatics. How's it going with you, Bill? Still no chance for a date with me? Still only on the male side?"  
  
I smiled at her. "Sorry Carly, no chance."  
  
"Aw. But you still haven't moved on from that last fruit of yours, that fellow worker for the bank, have you? What was his name? Drake? Stupid git, if you ask me. If you were mine to have, I wouldn't let you go in a million years!"  
  
I actually blushed at this. She was only joking, of course, but for one, Carla could be quite out-spoken, and also, I could imagine better things to talk about in front of Harry than recounting my ex-lovers.  
  
"So, Harry, have you been enjoying Egypt?"  
  
Idle conversation continued for awhile, until Carla decided it was time to 'rock some more', and left us behind as she returned to her band colleagues.  
  
"Nice girl," I remarked to Harry. "They play here sometimes, we've met first when I was still pretty new to England."  
  
I then asked Harry for a dance, while the band was playing something rather metal rock orientated - no danger of getting too close and being misunderstood - and he accepted. As after a couple of rounds the music drifted to something more slower, rather gothic-orientated, we did not leave the dance floor, though, and though I knew there was no future in this, the feel of holding Harry's body in a light embrace was dancing was very pleasurable indeed. I even caught Carla wink at me, once, and though I slightly shook my head at her, she continued to smile at us throughout the evening.  
  
When the band was later done with playing, Carla asked us to join her for a couple of pints at the pub (luckily, there were no official closing hours for wizarding pubs in Egypt, other than in England, and Shezra's was always open as long as there were still enough customers to serve), and we accepted, having danced enough for one night.  
  
As we were sitting in the pub, Carla continued to cast me stealthy looks, quite obviously broadcasting that she thought although Harry and I weren't lovers, this was a pity, and we should be, and when Harry left for the loo, once, she turned towards me, black eyes sparkling with mischief.  
  
"Gosh, he's cute, Bill. Heard he was handsome, of course, but he's smashing. You *should* make a move, at least - I think he's absolutely infatuated with you, with that smile he reserves for you and everything."  
  
"Carly, I don't think that would be wise," and sighing, I recounted the tale of what had happened during our journey to Egypt two months ago.  
  
"Oh Gods, that's terrible. So sorry for you - you're coping, though?"  
  
I nodded. "It's hard. I sometimes even think it's cruel to be going on like this, with my father and brother dead, but..." I faltered.  
  
"Yeah," she agreed, "but life must go on, right? And I still think he'd be perfect for you, once you've both come over everything."  
  
"There's more speaking against it, too, you know. The age..."  
  
"Bullshit. Had my first long-term relationship when I was sixteen, and he was twenty-eight. Lasted for three years, too..."  
  
"Yeah," I smiled, "and then you dumped him for someone your age, right?"  
  
"Wrong," she triumphed. "He dumped me for his bloody ex-wife, went back to family and kids and all. Guess that's out of the question for you, though. I'd reconsider the whole think, if I were you, but who am I to know of such things, I'm only a rock singer."  
  
Luckily, Harry returned from the toilet at that moment, and all of Carla's further attempts at playing matchmaker were broke off for good.  
  
Not that what she had said wasn't tempting. It was just pretty impossible, or so I thought back then.  
  
The last night in my flat in Egypt...  
  
I'd known the day had to come, and I also knew we were still going to spend a lot of time together on our travel, and in England - not to mention that we'd fight side by side, as I'd promised him long ago - yet it was also as if something was coming to an end.  
  
I'd miss him in my arms each night, beside me in my own bed, miss coming home from work to find someone waiting for me, miss waiting *for someone* in the evenings. Dreaded cooking meals for one person again, and all those long evenings you did not want to go out but would still like to have some pleasant company to spend a pleasant evening at home.  
  
How had he gotten me so addicted to him, in such short a time? 


	15. Chapter 15: Harry

THAT SUMMER, Chapter 15  
By Reija Linn  
  
Harry  
  
The next day, our travel back to England started, though we used the root over Romania as we had planned. Our gear, except for a light travel bag and our brooms, had already been brought there by the FastWiz travel company, since Apparition was more trying the more you had to take with you.  
  
Our breaks along the way were filled with nice, easy conversations at cafés and restaurants, though both of us were unusually drawn back, and the silence that sometimes spread in between subjects was not comfortable but strained. I guess we were both more than a little nervous about our return to England and whatever would come to pass there.  
  
Additionally to this, I was experiencing some strange emotions that had nothing at all to do with Voldemort and his followers. Bill and I had been living together for two months, sharing the flat, our meals, our leisure time, even a bed - what would life be like without him, again? Would I be able to go back to that? To the loneliness? Would I be able to watch Sirius and Remus come out of their bedroom in unity each morning, the more feeling lonely with my own room and my own bed and no one to share it? But if I chose to move out of my godfather's house, I would have no company at all...  
  
I wondered if I had made the wrong choice that night in Bill's bed, after all, but then, I couldn't seem to imagine any kind of future with Bill, and wouldn't it hurt even more to loose something you had already had, once, than to yearn for something you never had experienced?  
  
I could not imagine a future with Bill, but would I manage a future without his presence?  
  
I couldn't help but think about what Sesheta, the snake at the Pharaoh's temple, had told me. I had been so sure then, that Bill was to me what she described as a 'Chosen' - someone who complemented you, made you whole, someone who meant more to you than a friend or a brother or a lover...  
  
Yes, Bill was all of that to me, but what was I to Bill? I had no doubt that he enjoyed my presence as much as I enjoyed his, and after that night I knew that he desired me, too - I hadn't known that night that Bill was gay, that I had learned only after the singer at that nightclub had implied it, but still, did I mean as much to him as he meant to me? Could I ever? It was hard to believe someone could feel such strong emotions for me, anyone, especially Bill, who always seemed so independent and free, that I simply couldn't imagine it.  
  
Our stay at Charlie's place was planned to be brief, and it was all in all a little strained, since all knew where Bill and I were heading, and none of us knew whether we would return, ever.  
  
We had intended to stay there over night, of course, since we had to spend the night somewhere and rather it be Charlie's place than some hotel - besides, it was good to spend some time together with the uncertainty of ever seeing them all again. The Weasley's had come to be a family to me, even Charlie whom I'd hardly ever met, and I felt fully accepted as a brother to all of them that evening.  
  
As we sat together after a late supper, talking and trying to convince ourselves that it would not be the last time we could be together like this, Charlie approached us on a subject that had obviously cost him several sleepless nights. He had waited until the twins and Ginny - who looked much better since I had last seen her, and had taken on some weight again, almost finding back to the unique beauty she had once possessed - were busy with washing up in the kitchen.  
  
It turned out he was having an inner conflict about the upcoming battle Bill and I were intending to fight. On one hand, he wanted to join us, on the other, he was afraid of leaving the twins and Ginny behind - the unspoken understanding was that if Bill died, he would be the one who would have to take responsibility for the others, and though all but Ginny were past adult age, he knew they all needed someone to guide them after all the tragic events that had passed up to then.  
  
In the end, this problem solved itself. Surprisingly to all of us, Percy showed up very late at night, breathlessly stating that the ministry had finally fallen to the Death Eater's, and all former ministry members were either dead or being persecuted. Charlie and Percy left the room together, returning after almost an hour, stating their decision. Percy was to stay here and take care of the twins and Ginny, and Charlie and his friends would join us back to England - together with the dragons they had trained best (Fred and George protested loudly at this, claiming they would join us, and that they could master riding a dragon by now, but after Charlie had a quiet talk with them, too, they grudgingly agreed to stay, not the least of arguments being that with Percy being persecuted by Death Eater's, he needed more protection than he and Ginny could provide together).  
  
So it was settled, and we extended our stay at Charlie's since we needed the official permission of various governments to travel with dragons (a permission that had to be granted by a multitude of different offices, various bureaus concerned with the restriction of magical creatures, offices of concealed travel, and of course the permission of each country we would have to travel through underway). Luckily, most governments had previously sworn their assistance to England (one of the things that combined all magical governments was the fight against wizards and witches who performed Dark Magic), and all permissions were assembled within a week.  
  
Thus, when we continued our journey, it was not only Bill and me, but the two of us, Charlie, and the three friends he was now living with... by the way, those were the same people whom I had met during my first year, during the business with Norbert the Dragon - who was actually one of the four dragons we were traveling on. Phil, Collin and Mitchell, Charlie's friends (whom I hadn't recognised during my first visit at Charlie's, but who introduced themselves again before we started continuing our journey), had attended Hogwart's with Charlie, were just as shocked about the fall of the ministry as all of us, and though they had not been personally involved in the war going on in Britain since they had not lost any relatives or friends left there, they felt it was their duty to help in any way they could - and dragons were a powerful source, if you knew how to manage them, which was a very difficult art indeed.  
  
Phil - behind whom I was to ride - was especially gifted with dragons, I learned that he was one of the few people who could communicate with them. Dragons did not talk, like humans, or even snakes, but transmitted their thoughts to each other, and the rare gift of being able to communicate with them was granted only to those who had especially high PSI-levels (PSI was one of the things I had heard about in Divination classes at Hogwarts, during the moments I hadn't been doing something else or sleeping, and was the foundation for the arts of telepathy, empathy and telekinesis, magical disciplines that were even more trying than Advanced Transfiguration).  
  
It was a strange sensation, riding on dragon-back, stranger still as it has been with a Hippogriff in my fourth year of school - dragons were such huge creatures, and though they sailed through the air with an amazing grace, it was quite terrifying at first - for one, dragons flew much higher than I ever had on a broomstick, and secondly, though their flight had nothing of the humping sensation of riding a Hippogriff, it was awkward to be at the mercy of a creature so unpredictable. The knowledge that Phil, who was sitting in front of me, could transmit his thoughts to the beast was very assuring, though.  
  
Our means of travel was amazingly fast, though - counting in the many breaks we would have had to have taken if traveling by Apparition, we hardly lost any time at all, and through the courtesy of the various governments, we always found wonderful accommodations along the way - there weren't many places that could take in four dragons without risking the discovery by Muggles, but those that could were usually very well equipped for both dragons *and* humans.  
  
Bill was obviously enjoying our means of travel - he'd done this before, a couple of times, during his visits at Charlie's, and was more used to it than I was - plus, he was riding behind Charlie, which gave him some extra security (after all, if you couldn't trust your own brother's abilities, whose *could* you trust?)  
  
Thus we arrived in France, our last station before finally going over to England. The closer we had come to Britain, the more we had heard about the disastrous going-ons in our home country, and our journey, which had started out quite pleasantly with a lot of joking along the way, grew more strained with every mile. During our last evening before crossing the channel, the feeling of nervousness and even fear was so palpable you could probably sense it all around us.  
  
That last night, Bill and I returned to our old custom of sharing a bed again. Along the journey, we'd always been given separate rooms, and though it had felt awkward to sleeping alone again, we'd grown used to it - but that night in France, we both needed the reassurance, and decided what the heck with what everybody thought about it. Charlie did wink at us when he noticed I passed my own room to share Bill's, but refrained from commenting, simply whistling some tune in mock innocence while disappearing into his own room, barely hiding his chuckles.  
  
France was also the point where Bill and I took our leave from Charlie and his friends - we decided that entering the country with four dragons and four people was conspicuous enough, and hard to hide as it was, with two extra riders, one of them being me (I, after all, was one of the main people the Death Eaters were trying to spot, knowing I would not flee from my old nemesis Voldemort)  
  
So while the four of them stayed back, Bill and I traveled to England by Muggle means, using a ferry (the Death Eater's foresaw many things, but one of their draw-backs was that they could simply not imagine relying on Muggles, and would not oversee these passengers as harshly as those using wizard transportations as the controlled Apparition that was used for travel across borders, or portkeys.  
  
In England, we were received by one of Dumbledore's people, a witch by the name of Margarita, who luckily managed to bring us to the castle of Hogwart's without being intercepted.  
  
Hogwart's had changed a lot since I had last been there, I could hardly imagine it had only been two months. Though the castle and it's grounds were undamaged (other than the town of Hogsmeade, which was, by now, deserted), it seemed like more of a fortress than the school it had once been. With the current war going on, the school function had been shut down, Hogwart's was now a refugee camp for those who had lost their homes or parents, as well as the main camp of the resistance group around Albus Dumbledore.  
  
Upon arrival, we were at once lead to the former headmaster, who was still living in his old rooms with the adjourning office I'd visited a couple of times during my school years.  
  
Dumbledore had visibly aged during the two months since I had last seen him. There were deep shadows beneath his eyes, and his usual laughter wrinkles were supplemented by lines of worry. Still, he smiled when his eyes fell upon us.  
  
"Ah, Harry. It's so good to see you again - and Bill Weasley... what a pleasure for my old eyes to see you both so healthy. As you surely have seen, England is not facing good times indeed. But please, sit down. We're just waiting for some more people, before we come down to business. Would you like a cup of tea, in the meantime?"  
  
Without waiting for an answer, he conjured up a huge pot of tea and a number of cups, and so we waited for our round to be completed. 


	16. Chapter 16: Bill

THAT SUMMER, Chapter 16  
By Reija Linn  
  
Bill  
  
Without much delay, the other participants of this private meeting arrived in Dumbledore's office. Most of the assembled I knew, McGonagall, Sprout, Flitwick, Madam Hooch and Hagrid had all been around during my time at Hogwarts, and Hermione Granger, Harry's and Ron's friend from school, I had met before. Sirius Black I recognised from the time he had been in all wizard newspapers, though he looked much better now than he had in the pictures (of course, thirteen years of Azkaban would not release a person that would look very respectable). I deduced that the man next to him had to be Remus Lupin from what Harry had told me about him, and knowing he was Sirius Black's lover - those two were certainly close.  
  
They'd actually been in their last year of Hogwart's when I'd started my first, but had changed so much since then I couldn't recognise them from this alone. It did, however, remind me of the vast age difference between Harry and me - looking back, I realized that I had actually went to school with his father, even though I'd been a first year and he an almost-graduate.  
  
I could not spot Professor Snape or Madame Pomfrey anywhere, but I knew that they were working undercover as spies, and probably couldn't take place at the meeting without the risk of being discovered.  
  
When all of us were finally introduced and seated (and after Harry had exchanged long embraces with Sirius, Remus and Hermione and I had greeted the teachers), we moved to business pretty fast. Dumbledore, who sat in his seat with an unusually grim expression, his fingertips touching as he spread his fingers beneath his chin, started to talk.  
  
"Finally, we're all together again. Harry, as you all know, has been undergoing very advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts lessons in Egypt, which is also where Mr. Weasley here comes from - most of you will still remember him.  
  
"To put it bluntly, we're not facing rosy times now - not that we did anytime there past years, and especially in the last two months. I guess you've all come to the conclusion - this is the time, now, the time we've been waiting for since Voldemort" - I could see a couple of people still flinch at the mention of the name - "has risen again. This is the time we strike back. This is the time for the final battle. In the nearest future, all will be decided - we will either win, or loose, both the battle and our lives, as I hope all of you are very aware of.  
  
"This said, I have to ask of all of you to make their final decision - if you stay, it is at great risk to your life, please consider this. If any of you wants to leave, and take refugee wither here at Hogwarts, in a muggle settlement, or abroad, state this now, and no one will blame you for this."  
  
He looked around, catching each of us in the eye, but none said a word or stood up to leave. The former headmaster sighed.  
  
"Well, then. So it shall be. Before it may be too late - I want to thank all of you for what you have done already, and what you will still do. Now, I think, it is time for our last guests to show themselves."  
  
His voice had risen slightly at this, and suddenly a door (that probably lead to Dumbledore's private rooms) opened at the back of the room. Three people, all looking very haggard and weary, emerged. Professor Snape, Madam Pomfrey, Hogwart's former nurse, and... Draco Malfoy. I could hear Harry gasp at my side, and couldn't hide my own confusion, either. After all, Lucius Malfoy, who had been my father's enemy since they had went to school together, was one of the most prominent Death Eaters. I also noticed the suspicious glances that passed between Sirius Black and Professor Snape, but did not know enough about their past back then to understand.  
  
"Severus," the headmaster continued, "and Madam Pomfrey, whom you both all know, have been spying for the resistance, at great personal risk, I might add. Well, at least this subject is closed - with their coming here, their cover has no officially been blown, I have no doubt the Death Eater's are very well informed about their return to us. All of you know Mr. Malfoy?"  
  
Draco took a seat, stone faced. He looked worse even than Snape and Madam Pomfrey, pale, his eyes deep-set from obvious lack of sleep.  
  
"Mr. Malfoy has agreed to come to this meeting. I haven't told anyone about this, but before he was taken from school by his father, I had a long discussion with him about the Dark Side, and he decided to work for us, also. This may surprise a few of you" - he was now noticeably regarding Harry and me - "but be assured I have the utmost confidence in his trustworthiness. Draco," he said this last word more softly, "would you kindly tell of what has happened in time you were parted from us?"  
  
And Draco Malfoy, whom I had first met as a cruel boy when he was fourteen, recounted the tale of his stay with the Death Eaters. Apparently, his father had trimmed him towards the Dark Arts from early age on, and at first, the boy had felt such hero worship and fear of and for his father that he had always obliged. However, there had come a point when he had realized some of the wrongness of those ways, and when Dumbledore had asked him to join the resistance, he agreed to leave with his father - as a spy.  
  
Of course, with Lucius Malfoy in such a high position, he had learned of many of the Death Eater's plans, yet I could only imagine the horrors this boy had to have gone through. And worse, what he would still have to go through, as he was the only one of the three spies whose cover had not been blown.  
  
Through the combined work of Snape, Pomfrey and Draco, we finally knew where Voldemort's hiding place was situated - an inconspicuous Muggle village at the end of nowhere.  
  
After this had been said, Harry and I made our reports, including the information that Charlie and his friends were in France, waiting for their sign to come through.  
  
Plans were laid out and rejected, laid out and rejected, until we finally settled on one course of action that promised at least a vast chance of survival.  
  
Draco Malfoy was to return to the Death Eaters, securing his confidentiality to them by revealing he had followed Severus Snape, and had defeated the traitor - at the same time, a false letter by Dumbledore to Harry would be sent out, telling of Snape's death. A letter that would be sent by means that were quite secure at first glance, but that surely would be intercepted by the Death Eaters - by Draco's information, we knew of a former Ministry member who was said to have found refugee in Germany, but who was actually a spy for Voldemort, and Dumbledore would send his letter to this man, asking him as an old friend to deliver it to Harry at his supposed hiding place.  
  
Of course, as soon as the Death Eater's would catch this letter, they would intercept this hiding place - and find traces of Harry's return to Hogwart's.  
  
The castle, in the meantime, would be evacuated of all refugees, who would, for the time, find shelter in the dungeon's of Gringott's - that still was one of the secure places these days, since the Goblin's had no interest in turning to the Dark side, knowing well enough that they would not be recognized as human beings once the Dark had won, and would be enslaved.  
  
The final battle would then take place at Hogwarts itself.  
  
There were so many loopholes in this plan that none of us left the meeting with a light heart, but we hadn't been able to find a better one, and thus it was set. 


	17. Chapter 17: Harry

THAT SUMMER, Chapter 17  
By Reija Linn  
  
Harry  
  
When the plan was set, we all were sent to our assigned quarters in the castle, only Dumbledore and Draco staying behind. I asked the others to go ahead, and that I would join them shortly - then I faced my old enemy, Draco Malfoy, with shaking knees. I noticed Dumbledore had left the room through the door through which Snape, Madame Pomfrey and Malfoy had entered earlier - thus, I was alone with Draco.  
  
He regarded at me with a look of contempt, which I couldn't feel offended at, as I guessed my own expression hadn't been very much different earlier on. And years of animosity and hate were hard to overcome.  
  
"What do you want, Potter?" he sneered at me, though his hands were noticeably shaking.  
  
"I..." I'd known I'd have to say something, but I hadn't quite formulated what exactly I wanted to tell him. "Just wish you luck, I guess."  
  
He actually looked abashed at this, not to mention surprised. Yet, his reply was with a harsh tone. "Sudden change, Potter. We've never been friends, so don't pretend you're concerned about my fucking health, but we've been pretty good enemies, so let's just leave it at that, okay?"  
  
I shook my head as my old Harry-Potter-stubbornness set in. "Nope. I realize it's probably too late for us to be friends, and honestly, I don't really know if I want to be - after all, you didn't exactly make my years here any better - but I don't think I can see you as my enemy again. Besides, I don't want to make the same mistake my godfather has made - he and Snape still loathe each other, which lead to Peter Pettigrew escaping in the first place - if it weren't for that, perhaps we wouldn't have to worry about this bloody war at all. It almost lead to the death of two innocent people, too."  
  
"And what's that to do with *us*, Potter?"  
  
I sighed audibly. "Everything, though I guess you can't understand since you weren't there that day, and don't even know half of it. I just think there's enough hate around as it is, and no need for hate between allies. I'm sorry if you don't see that, but I wish you good luck anyways, and that you come out of this alive, okay?"  
  
With this, I turned to exit Dumbledore's office. I had already opened the door to see Bill waiting there for me, when I heard Draco's - for him rather soft-sounding "You too, Potter."  
  
I turned back to smile at my old enemy, who stood there with an expression as if he'd never said the words, but I knew he had, and I left the room with a feeling of an urgent matter settled.  
  
When the door shut closed behind me, Bill turned towards me curiously "what was that all about?"  
  
"Just setting something right before it's too late, Bill."  
  
With this, we went to our quarters - we'd been assigned to one of the previous dorms (which delight I noticed it was my own old room in the Gryffindor tower) together with Sirius and Remus. Hermione, as the only girl in our troops, was staying in a room with Madam Pomfrey, Madam Hooch and Professor McGonagall - it had been decided that single sleeping rooms were too dangerous should our plan go wrong and Hogwarts be attacked early, which was pretty unlikely, but possible.  
  
Sirius actually was so delighted with finding me well, that he hugged me again with a breath taking ferocity he had obviously controlled while in the company of the others.  
  
"Gosh, Harry, it's so good to see you again. I'm so sorry for everything that has happened - I'm so sorry, and I should have been there, and..."  
  
I cut him off kindly. "It's okay, Sirius. Really. I can't say I'm not sorry for what happened - it still hurts - but Bill's been there for me, and it's okay."  
  
Bill chimed in at this, chuckling. "Actually, it was more that we were there for each other." He shook hands with both Sirius and Remus, and though we were all very tired - we hadn't even noticed it was late evening, already - we settled down on a bed together, Sirius and Remus at one end (my godfather's arm slung suspiciously around his mate's shoulders as they snuggled close), Bill and I at the other, and when Bill flung his arm around me similar to the other two, it seemed totally natural.  
  
Sirius grinned at this. Of course, he didn't know about me and Ron - looking back, I couldn't find a reason why I hadn't told him about it, though there must have been one - perhaps it was simply that I hadn't seen much of my godfather since he'd started his work as an auror, or perhaps that I had, although it hadn't been that long, felt so younger back then. And we hadn't told Ron's parents...  
  
"Are you two..." my godfather smugly started to ask, and grinned wickedly when Bill and I blushed.  
  
"No," Bill answered, at the same time to my rather stern "Sirius!"  
  
My dear godfather then refrained from more implications (at least partly because Remus punched him in the side), but looked even smugger than before. "Oh, I see."  
  
I tried to distract him by talking about something else altogether, I think I addressed Remus about something or the other, and soon we were leading a conversation that luckily had nothing at all to do with Bill and my (non-existent) relationship.  
  
After what must have been over an hour of talk, tiredness finally set in, and thankfully, Sirius did not drop a single remark at me and Bill sharing a bed (though I have the strange suspicion that had something to do with Remus, and still thank him for that).  
  
Of course, we had during our travel to England become used to sleeping apart again, but now that the battle was so close, I needed Bill's company more than ever, and truly, his presence and warmth at my side took away much of my nervousness about the things that were to come.  
  
The next day, the people who had found refugee at the castle were moved to the Gringott's dungeon, and a message was sent out to Charlie and his friends.  
  
Hogwart's was ready for the final fight.  
  
And so were we. 


	18. Chapter 18: Bill

THAT SUMMER, Chapter 18  
By Reija Linn  
  
Bill  
  
Once the battle was induced, things moved on pretty quickly. Dumbledore had sent his letter out right after the meeting, and Draco Malfoy had left around the same time, since his story would sound more believable if he returned before the letter arrived.  
  
No later than the evening of our second day back at Hogwart's, the first sign of the Death Eater's was discovered - in form of the burning village of Hogsmeade, which had fortunately been evacuated weeks ago after the first failed attack on Hogwart's, after which much of the village had been destroyed by frustrated Death Eaters.  
  
Moments later, large groups of hooded figures in dark robes flew swiftly into the grounds of Hogwart's from all directions, most of them mounted on broomsticks, though I could see a small group of four or five of them riding Thestrals - very rare black winged horses - we would have to keep watch of those, Thestrals were known for their ability to make themselves invisible.  
  
For a moment, I could - from the outlook I was standing on with Harry, so very visible to them once they were close enough to the castle, merely gasp at the number of them. Of course, Voldemort would assemble all of his followers for the final conquest of Hogwart's he had obviously planned, knowing that Dumbledore was still here - but that so many wizards and witches, some of whom I probably knew from my parent's and even went to school with at my time, had gone over to the Dark Side... this was more terrifying than any thought of what they would do to us if we were captured.  
  
Harry beside me kept an air of confidence and acceptance I truly admired, though I could see he gripped tightly on his wand, and both of his hands were shaking.  
  
When they had broken in close enough for spell-casting, the first differently coloured lightning bolts passed between the sides, though Harry was still standing next to me unmoving, merely blocking a spell now and then.  
  
The other member's of our small resistance group were placed strategically around the castle - Dumbledore himself I couldn't spot at the time, though I knew he had to be doing something.  
  
Closer and closer they came, and it was hard to recognise much of anything through the whiz of colours produced by spells, hexes and curses all over the place. All I could think was to defend myself and Harry against anything that came into our direction, and make sure he was still at my side.  
  
The battle raged. The four - I could only see four now, had I imagined the fifth? - riders with their Thestrals raced towards the castle, attacking, I think, Severus Snape and someone I couldn't recognise standing beside him, and were only stopped by a huge plant that suddenly erupted from the ground, it's large coils moving seemingly of their own volition, winding around the Death Eater's and their horses, inflicting multiple boils on them at every contact.  
  
I checked the horizon feverishly every now and again - had Charlie and his friends made it to England? Or were they intercepted on the way?  
  
Harry, still safely beside me, was now hurling various curses upon the groups of attackers, though I could tell he was holding back for his own final battle with the Dark Lord himself, and I dealt out a vast share of them myself, though the blazing lights from my own curses hindered my sight even more.  
  
And then I saw them, high above us in the sky, sweeping across the clouds, flying in from the west - four large beast, flying in a circle above the castle before launching their own attack. Charlie with his swift green Romanian Longhorn, Colin on a huge Ukrainian Ironbelly, Mitchell riding the Norwegian Ridgeback Norbert, and Phil on the terrifying fire-breathing Hungarian Horntail had come through, and had joined us in the final battle.  
  
Descending and sweeping up high again, the dragons (and the curses of their riders) inflicted great damage on the numbers of Death Eater's, though I could see the Ironbelly's metallic scales were dyed in dark, crimson dragon blood, and Mitchell's dragon was swaying slightly to the left while flying - obviously some damage to his right wing.  
  
And then, just when victory was turning towards our side through the appearance of the dragons, so many things happened almost simultaneously I lost count - first, a Peruvian Vipertooth, a small but swift dragon, attacked Mitchell's animal, driving it's poisonous fangs into the other creature's neck, whereupon both dragons fell from the sky in a death claw. Secondly, Harry next to me swung onto his Firebolt and with the speed only a superb seeker for many years could must flew off in the direction of where the dragons were going down, as if through wonder catching Mitchell out of the air just before he smashed into the ground near the Quidditch field, and even more miraculously did not crash into the broom shed despite Mitchell's extra weight.  
  
The third thing that happened - and for this I could have cursed myself at that moment, I *had* sawn five riders - was that a large Thestral carrying one of the Death Eaters appeared right in front of me.  
  
"Silencium," the Death Eater hissed at me, in a voice strangely familiar, though I could not place it, and I felt my jaw clench - an effective means of making sure I could do no magic at all, since though I had learned to perform some spells and curses without a wand, I had never mastered the art of silent spell-casting (something that only mute wizard's seemed to posses a talent for, therefore making up for not being able to perform magic through ordinary means).  
  
Positive I had met my end, I tried to at least defend myself through non-magical means for a short time, I refused to give up with a fight - but surprisingly, I was not killed, but bound and placed behind the Death Eater on the large winged horse.  
  
We flew across the grounds, while my abductor masterfully dodged all curses thrown towards him, in direction of the Quidditch field, where I spotted the two fallen dragons still clutching at each other's throats - the Ridgeback was looking very weak by now, the poison had probably set - and...  
  
Harry. Standing there, alone amidst a cruel carnival of colours, standing protectively in front of the still figure of Mitchell, his wand extended.  
  
The last thing I noticed was that the Earth was shaking, and in a hurricane of deep black that twirled directly in front of Harry, the Dark Lord himself appeared, smiling cruelly upon my dearest friend, that I had come to love.  
  
Lord Voldemort had returned to Hogwart's himself...  
  
Then my consciousness faded to black. 


	19. Chapter 19: Harry

THAT SUMMER, Chapter 19  
By Reija Linn  
  
Harry  
  
There he stood before me, my nemesis, the shadow that had followed me around throughout my life, ever since I had been a small baby. The one I had encountered so often, in many shapes and carrying many names, and who had escaped his downfall too many times already.  
  
The man who was responsible for the deaths of my parents and of Arthur Weasley, who died protecting me, the death of Ron, whom I had loved. The man who had driven Molly Weasley, who had been like a mother to me since first year, into insanity. The man who had caused the deaths of countless people, who had disrupted families, and dealt with lives as if all of us were just balls in a game of Quidditch.  
  
This man was Voldemort, and in me he would once again meet his downfall, so I had swore to myself.  
  
"Harry," he smiled, though no smile on the features of this, this creature could ever make his cruel face more friendly, and it was a cruel smile indeed he showed me. "Harry Potter. How pleasant to meet you again. This time, there is no one here to protect you. No mother to die for you, no lover to throw himself in the way of my curse. One of my devoted servants has taken the one who has pledged to fight with you, and no one if left to defend you, this time. This time, you are alone. Greet your death, Harry Potter, and perhaps you will see your dear parents again..."  
  
Voldemort laughed, a laugh that was loud and shrill and cruel to no end, and that twisted his face even more than it already was. I tried to grasp the spells I had learned, tried to remember the words and gestures, but seemed unable to perform even the simplest jinx. Bill...  
  
Bill was captured?  
  
Around me, the grounds were alight with fire, or was it only the colours of the different spells performed? All sounds around me blended into one piercing note that rang in my ears, and echoed in my thoughts.  
  
Voldemort seemed amused at this, with mind-numbing slowness he rose his wand and pointed it in my direction. That was when something in my mind clicked, and I tore up my wand - too late. With a smile of victory, the Dark Lord whispered his curse "Crucio".  
  
He seemed to be enjoying playing with me, for he did not use the Avada Kedavra curse at once. Pain rippled through my body as the Cruciatus Curse hit me, so terrible I almost let go of my wand, being unable to do much more than crouch on the ground, pain rippling through my body.  
  
"Crucio."  
  
I was weak, I had always thought myself strong, but at that moment of endless pain, I felt as weak as a child, weak and alone and afraid. I could hardly muster more than a few feeble curses that hardly seemed to have any impact at all, and try to block his repeated curses, this well of pain that threatened to destroy me.  
  
Where was Bill? Was he still alive? Where had they taken him if so? Had Voldemort spoken the truth? And if he hadn't, why wasn't Bill here?  
  
"Crucio."  
  
Endless pain, throbbing in my head, throughout my body, numbing. The words... a curse, any curse... the words, what were the words? I couldn't remember...  
  
"Harry..." My mother's voice? "Harry..." No, Ron. It was Ron, calling for me... but Ron was dead... did that mean I was to die?  
  
In those moments of pain, death seemed almost like a blessing.  
  
"Harry... you have to fight back. It's not your time yet..."  
  
Oh, Ron, but how? 


	20. Chapter 20: Bill

THAT SUMMER, Chapter 20  
By Reija Linn  
  
Bill  
  
Again that dream of drowning... my own face at the surface... no, not mine... Ron's...  
  
When I woke from the darkness that had surrounded me, I was looking directly into a pair of shadowed eyes - shadowed from the hood the Death Eater was still wearing over his pointed face.  
  
"Bill Weasley," he whispered. "We went to school together... do you remember me? No? Well, years can do that to a person... but perhaps you remember me from later? Remember the sound of my voice?"  
  
'... Inferno... the sound of a curse, thundering through the night, then my father snatching me and Charlie, pulling us with him, out of the house...'  
  
"You..."  
  
'... flames and smoke, the sound of my mother screaming... Tina! Tina!...'  
  
"You killed Tina... you killed my sister, and almost destroyed our house!"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Who...?!"  
  
The man took off his hood, slowly. I had to blink against the darkness of the room we were in, then I recognised him. He had grown older, fatter, his eyes darker, and wrinkles were deep in his face... but it was the same person, his picture had, after all, been in all the newspapers.  
  
I wanted to speak a curse at once, he had taken my wand, of course, but I could master a couple of spells without, but by the time this thought had come up, he already reached out, his cold hand touching my mouth. "Silencium." Something unreal about his hand, as it gleamed in the almost darkness...  
  
"No, Bill Weasley, you will listen to me. I still have something to say... an old wrong... no, I won't kill you... I need you to deliver this message to my old friends, Sirius Black and Remus Lupin, should they survive this battle."  
  
With this, the man handed me a small parchment role, sealed with wax, in which a small rat's paw was embedded.  
  
"It is too late for me to go back, even if my Lord is defeated... I have done too much... but no matter how this battle ends, I have no will to live left in me. Should the Dark Lord prevail, hm, in a world ruled by him... I now know there is no victory for me there. He has used me, and now that I have no more left to give, he will kill me. And the Light will never accept me again... I can only pray that with my death, James and Lily will forgive me...  
  
"Help James' son, as I should have helped the father. Don't worry about killing me... this, I will do on my own. Voldemort and Harry are outside - we are in the broomshed, in case you haven't noticed. Here..." he handed me something long and slim, "your wand."  
  
And with this, Peter Pettigrew vanished, never to be seen again.  
  
I quickly undid the silence spell he had put on me, and lit my wand with the 'Lumos' spell, but no trace of the man was left, though I thought I heard a rusting noise behind one of the brooms.  
  
But there was no time left for this. I had to help Harry! As soon as I found the door, I left the shed, to be greeted with the terrible sight of Harry, crumpled on the ground, with the dark form of Voldemort hovering above him.  
  
"Harry...!"  
  
Voldemort turned in surprise, he obviously hadn't been counting on me. Harry lay unmoving. Was he...?  
  
"So you have decided to join us, Mr. Weasley?" His tone was mocking, but I knew I had startled him. He obviously hadn't calculated that this servant could betray him.  
  
"Expelliarmus!"  
  
The Dark Wizard's wand flew far away at this spell of mine, but I knew he would be able to do many, many curses without it yet.  
  
"For this, you will die," he hissed at me, enraged, slowly stepping towards me, thus missing that the still form of Harry suddenly stirred.  
  
I prepared myself for the final blow, throwing curses at Voldemort, but noticing they ricocheted ineffectively.  
  
"Vir..." Harry, slowly coming to his feet, tried to utter, but Voldemort did not notice. "Vir ingentis spiritus Akasha..."  
  
Voldemort half-turned in surprise at the words before the curse hit him. Dark veils closed around him, as this creature with no human soul cried out in agony, a sound like a crow's scream. For Akasha was the world memory, the memory of all, and the Curse of Akasha was to feel the memory of the whole world upon oneself, feeling the agony of every being one had caused harm.  
  
Harry looked at me, weary and tired, but with a face set and determined. And I understood.  
  
"Avada Kedavra," a curse spoke in unison, green bolts of lightning shooting out of two wands simultaneously. The figure hidden within dark clouds shuddered, once, twice, then let out a last high-pitched scream, that could only be described with the word unearthly.  
  
The ground shuddered at this scream, cracking open directly at the point where Voldemort stood, a large rift opening and widening as far as I could see, as the high-pitched scream died in the endless darkness of the rift.  
  
I looked at Harry, silently, who stood on the other side of the crack in the ground, breathing heavily, sweat on his forehead.  
  
"We... did it... Bill."  
  
And so we had. You-Know-Who had finally vanished.  
  
I crossed the rift on my broom, catching Harry just in time before he hit the ground in exhaustion. All around us, the battle against the Death Eaters was still being fought, though it could only be a matter of time now their leader was defeated.  
  
The dragons had long stopped clawing at each other, both large forms were lying on the ground still and dead.  
  
Mitchell was coming back to consciousness, I noticed with relief, and though a scarlet line of blood was dropping from a head wound he had received, it was minor. I quickly treated the wound with magic, then checked whether he had suffered a concussion - he had been lucky.  
  
Harry, whom I had gently laid down on the ground, was opening his eyes now, emerald lakes filled with tears.  
  
"Bill... I though you were dead." I suddenly found myself with a sobbing Harry embracing me, and only then noticed I was crying myself.  
  
"I... thought you were... dead... too." It felt hard to breathe against the memory of seeing Harry lie there, unmoving, with Voldemort hovering above him.  
  
The next thing I knew, I found myself in a breathtaking kiss with Harry, tasting salty tears on his lips and mine, knowing I could never feel to be parted from him again. 


	21. Chapter 21: Harry

THAT SUMMER, Chapter 21  
By Reija Linn  
  
Harry  
  
"I love you, Harry," whispered words against my lips, as hot tears fell down my cheeks, I knew not whether they were mine or his. Could this be true? Could Bill, strong and independent as I knew him, feel for me as I felt for him? Could there, after all, be a future for us? Despite his soft lips on mine, I could not believe it, and my answer would not leave my lips, try as I might.  
  
We went back to the castle together, supporting Mitchell on the way, never looking back to the large, dark rift that was the tomb of Lord Voldemort. Once we arrived there, the battle was almost fought. It was a difficult sight to take in... so many dead, so many wounded...  
  
More on the Death Eater's side, but still...  
  
Professor Flitwick. Madam Hooch. Mad-Eye Moody. They were dead. Such terrible losses. They should be the last to go to Voldemort, the Dark Lord, who had once been named Tom Riddle.  
  
Madame Pomfrey was treating Professor Sprout, who had collapsed after invoking a large live plant from the earth - the one that had fought the riders on the winged horses, in retrospect, it *was* a fitting spell for a herbology teacher. Sirius had also been struck, but he smiled at me when he lay sight upon me, and told me not to worry, he'd be alright in one or two days. Remus was staying at his side, and assured me the injuries weren't too serious.  
  
Dumbledore looked wearier than ever I had seen him, when he gathered those of us still alive and up around him, to officially declare the defeat of Voldemort. Yet he was smiling.  
  
Draco had returned from the battle field bruised an battered, but alive, and though we did no more than acknowledge each other by name, I was glad he had made it. We would probably never be friends, but I was glad to have made my peace with him.  
  
Norbert the Norwegian Ridgeback was cremated, as the law demanded all dead dragons had to be burned so that muggles would not find their bones and learn of their existence, but his ashes were buried under many tears by Hagrid himself - he actually carved a tombstone, which read "Norbert, 1991-1998... You died as a hero and will always be remembered - Mommie" Ah well, Hagrid and dragons. Though Norbert had, actually. Died as a hero. Normally, when attacked by a Vipertooth, even a dragon would not master enough strength to pull the other dragon into death with him...  
  
Hogwart's was reopened late on the first of October, and though at first the number of students was small, many people returned from they asylums abroad upon hearing of the Dark Lord's fall, and more children returned or were newly admitted to Hogwart's school of Wizardry and Witchcraft.  
  
Dumbledore actually offered me a teaching post at the school, as Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. I told him I needed to think about it, and put him off a little.  
  
Percy returned to the country and was one of the seven old council members who rebuilt the Ministry of Magic.  
  
Sirius and Remus were mumbling something about enjoying their retirement, maybe buying a pub, but I couldn't believe those two rascals would stay put for long.  
  
Professor Sprout claimed she actually *would* retire, but would remain for one more year to instruct her predecessor - Neville Longbottom. Since his return from the States, I didn't recognize my old classmate, who had once been so forgetful and clumsy... true, he was still nervous and a little shy, but he had a great talent for plants, and through Hermione's tutoring throughout our school time together could at least master a fairly good growing potion.  
  
Hermione was going to continue her career as an auror, even after Voldemort's defeat, there still was enough dark magic around, though she also helped rebuild the ministry with Percy (can you imagine how surprised I was when six months later they announced their engagement?)  
  
Charlie and his friends returned to Romania immediately, though one dragon shorter, promising to owl as soon as they arrived.  
  
Ginny returned to Beauxbaton's for her final year, where she made up with her boyfriend Pierre - she was recovering wonderfully since Voldemort's defeat.  
  
Fred and George had decided to become dragon trainers like Charlie, though Charlie himself doubted they'd last long after the first excitement of working with such large beast had worn off - true to this, they both returned to England after four months, making their childhood dream reality and opening a joke shop in the rebuilt village of Hogsmeade.  
  
Peter Pettigrew's corpse was never found, though we *did* find the dead body of a rat in the old broomshed, torn apart by a cat's teeth, obviously - it had one claw missing, and at least from what was left of the creature, I thought it looked like Scabbers.  
  
And Bill?  
  
One week after Voldemort's downfall, Bill approached me one evening late at night - we'd both been staying at my godfather's place with him and Remus, but since our kiss on the Quidditch field, we hadn't touched in this way or even spoken about it.  
  
"Harry..." his tone was soft, but his brown eyes spoke volumes, and I knew suddenly, without any doubt, that he had meant it when he had told me he loved me. "I'll have to return to Egypt, soon. Tried to get more time, but they need my help with opening a special vault... I could, of course, apply for a job at Gringott's here... but it would take a year at least to get it through with the bosses..."  
  
His voice trailed off, and I recognized the question in his eyes.  
  
"Let me join you to Egypt, then." Said with a strong, unquivering voice - I surprised myself. "I can accept Udschat's offer, and go to the temple there - after all, I can speak with snakes, I ought to make something out of that talent. Besides, with all the time I spent studying, I haven't seen half of the country, yet."  
  
"But... but was is there waiting for you, in Egypt?"  
  
I stood before him, firmly taking hold of his shoulders, gazing deeply into his hazel eyes.  
  
"You, Bill. You are waiting for me in Egypt."  
  
And with this, I pulled him close to me for a deep kiss, tasting his lips on mine, sweet as honey and soft as peaches, his kiss gentle as November rain. His touch, so soft, so scared still on my skin, sending electric sparks throughout my body, or was this, perhaps, just another kind of magic?  
  
I leaned back into his touch as his body lowered itself on mine on my narrow bed, as his touches grew firmer, and my own grew longing, hot skin on mine as we explored each other's body with touch of hands and lips and tongues...  
  
The scent in the air, of hormones and sex and longing and fulfillment, and above all of Bill, who smelled like pine and soap and sandalwood shampoo, and... home, as our bodies joined and our minds acknowledged what our souls had known from the start. 


	22. That Summer: Epilogue

THAT SUMMER, Epilogue  
By Reija Linn  
  
Darkness - darkness all around me. A child, crying, somewhere, though I can't find it... or is it me crying?  
  
They come and go all the time, the people in white. They give me food, which I don't taste, and clothes, which I don't feel, and drugs, which can never take the pain away...  
  
I am alone in this void of darkness and silence. Though sometimes, it is not silent at all. Sometimes, I hear the child crying, sometimes I hear someone screaming, cruelly, unearthly, and sometimes I hear the crackling and burning of flames, the cries and screams of my children...  
  
Once, I saw Ron, and Arthur is always here, holding me in the darkness, the only comfort I have left in a world of pain and loneliness. I tried to tell them about it, but they gave me more drugs, and wouldn't listen, so now I am silent, and don't tell them anything anymore, praying they would just go away and leave me here, with my husband.  
  
There are other people here too, sometimes, though I don't know where here is... or is here perhaps nowhere?  
  
Ron didn't come back to me again...  
  
Sometimes, I hear voices, not the voices of the people in white, who talk to me in words I don't understand, but the voices of my children...  
  
Percy, mostly...  
  
Charlie, one time...  
  
Bill, also once... and was that Harry with him?  
  
But I cannot answer them, I know that when I turn from this world, I can never go back...  
  
Arthur is here with me...  
  
And Tina...  
  
And perhaps, Ron will come back...  
  
I can't leave this place...  
  
Here, there is no pain, there is no death, and no loneliness...  
  
Arthur tells me there is also no future here, but I no longer care about future...  
  
At least I am with Arthur, whom I love so much...  
  
And if I wait here long enough, they will all join us here, and then I will never again feel alone...  
  
Alone...  
  
THE END 


End file.
